#i'm always nervous posting character designs

[mocharyc]

Invincible variants x reader ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

They watched you succumb to death in every twisted, agonizing way in their universes. Unable to prevent it, in this universe... ♡ It would be different ♡ Parts Available: The series is completed - 10 parts

☆ characters: MoHawk Invincible, Omni Invincible, Sinister Invincible, Viltrumite Invincible, Prisoner Invincible, No Mask Invincible, Phantom Invincible(Full masked), and Emperor Invincible.

☆ TW: Reader is manmade 'Viltrumite'

☆ WC: 5k+ [Part 1-]

☆ Author's Note: I'm truly sad I can’t find much Invincible variants x reader stuff, so I decided to make a story myself! This is going to be a long story with many parts, and I mean lonnggggg. If writer's block doesn't succumb me :P I also plan to include sexual content as well in later chapters. First time posting on tumblr, kinda nervous (ᵕ ´ ∇ ˋ ˶) ���–––––––––––––––––

☆

The ice cracked, a shudder running through my suspended form, the cryopreservation ending once again. It was a sensation I'd grown intimately familiar with – the cold, the forced awakening, the metallic taste of the seemingly invincible shock collar tightening around my neck. The small sparks of electricity traveling to the wet muscle trapped inside my head. 

My dull eyes flickered open, adjusting to the harsh glare of the white lights of the GDA facility.

"Experiment 1-01, designated Y/N, reactivation complete," a cold, clinical voice echoed from the speakers. Cecil's voice. Always Cecil. The weak, old white man.

"What is it this time?" I growled, my voice rough from disuse. 

My body felt heavy, a dull ache permeating every muscle. Slunking down on the platform I hiss. The heaters appearing from each side of the enclosure wall to warm my aching body back into submission. 

"A… situation," Cecil replied, his tone unusually strained, "Multiple hostile entities, Invincible variants… Viltrumites in origin, are causing widespread destruction. We require your… assistance."

Hostile Viltrumites? My mind struggled to process the information. They were sending me, me, the weapon they kept locked away, against Viltrumite variants of Invincible? This had to be bad.

The ice finally fully melted away, and I was lowered onto the transportation platform. The shock collar pulsed, a constant reminder of my captivity.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the raw power thrumming beneath my skin. My wet hair sticking to the skin of my back. The tight suit clamped to my skin.

They'd honed me, pushed me beyond any natural limit. I was an experiment seemingly born in this dreadful prison. A test tube for them to fill with anything they dreamed of, and use needlssy. Dissecting my body apart to inject with the results of false experiments. Viltrumite blood, from the one Omni-man himself… I was their ultimate weapon in the face of no return. Crafted as the last stand in the face of no return, even if they were terrified to use it.

"What's the mission?" I asked, my voice flat. My eyes glued to the one sided glass wall, where I could sense the heat Signatures of multiple scientists and Cecil standing behind.

"Eliminate all hostile Invincible variants. No collateral damage," Cecil instructed, his voice laced with a thin veneer of control through the speaker.

No collateral damage? They were asking the impossible.

The transport platform hissed, lifting me from the cold, sterile chamber throught the many levels of the base. Finally to the surface of the GDA's hidden base. 

My eyes widen, as I see the sky for the first time in so many long years. The soft blue sky, the cool chill crisp of fresh air, beautifully painted clouds strengthening across the blue canvas stretched above me. I raised my arms spinning softly with a laugh. Fuck it feels good to be out again! The shock collar suddenly pulsed, a cold, insistent command that made me freeze. "Eliminate all hostile Invincible variants," Cecil's voice echoed in my mind.

With a grumble, I launched myself into the air, a surge of raw power propelling me upwards. The world shrank below, the GDA facility becoming a mere speck in the distance. 

I spread my arms, feeling the wind whip through my damp hair, as it instantly dried in the strong breeze of fresh air. The raw energy of flight coursing through my veins. This was what I was made for.

Zooming through the sky I break the sound barrier, flying into New York. 

The city was a chaotic tapestry of destruction, plumes of black smoke rising like grotesque fingers, the skeletal remains of skyscrapers reaching towards the sky. Building Collapsing.

Once again I break the sound barrier with a thunderous boom, the air around me shimmering with heat. The raw, untamed power of flight, the sheer speed, it was soooo intoxicating.

The scents of the city assaulted my senses – burning metal, acrid smoke, the coppery tang of blood, and the faint, terrified screams of the dying citizens trying to hide and running. It was a symphony of chaos, a macabre orchestra conducted by the Invincible variant in New York. 

And I, the weapon, was here to silence it.

A jolt of electricity from the collar snapped me back to the mission. "Focus girl. Eliminate target in New York. Identification, Mohawk Invincible."

My eyes scanned the ruined cityscape, looking onto a scene of imminent destruction for any sign of the killing machine.

A child, no more than a few years old, stood frozen in terror beneath a crumbling building, its foundations groaning ominously. I felt a flicker of something, a faint echo of… what? It was quickly extinguished by the collar's control. A child...weak...protect? No, mission.

With a burst of speed, I was there. I braced myself, catching the falling building with my bare hands, the concrete groaning under the strain as I held the collapsing building up.

I glanced at the child between my legs, its face a mask of terror streaked with tears and mucus. With one arm still bracing the collapsing structure, I scooped the small body against my chest. Its warmth was shocking—so different from the cold sterility of my existence. The tiny heart hammered against my suit, a frantic rhythm that stirred something protective within me.

Releasing my hold on the building, I launched us both skyward as tons of concrete and steel crashed to the street below. Dust and debris erupted in a massive cloud, consuming everything in its path as I carried the child to relative safety, landing on a section of street that wasn't actively burning.

The asphalt cracked beneath my feet, blackened and weakened by the heat of nearby fires. The child in my arms whimpered, one limb bent at an angle that spoke of fracture and pain. I placed the small form on the ground, studying it with clinical detachment as its eyes—wide with terror—stared up at me. Unintelligible words tumbled from its lips, a litany of fear I couldn't process.

"Stay," I commanded, my voice devoid of warmth or reassurance. Yet as I reached down to brush a speck of blood from its cheek, a spark of something undefinable flared within me as tiny fingers clutched desperately at my hand. Why? Why do I feel this?

"Saving citizens is important, but defeating the threat is top priority." Cecil's voice intruded into my moment of connection, the implant in my head ensuring his control remained absolute.

I turned away, the mission reasserting its primacy in my consciousness. But a blur of motion caught my peripheral vision—a figure streaking across the sky on an intercept course.

"Finally, another fucking hero for me to fucking obliterate!!" A voice laced with manic glee echoed through the ruined streets as the figure—Mohawk Mark—accelerated toward me.

There was barely time to react. I pivoted sharply, using my body as a shield for the child, intercepting the charge with my shoulder. The impact was cataclysmic—like colliding with a runaway train. The force sent us both hurtling through the concrete wall of a nearby building, pulverizing it instantly. The shockwave rippled outward, shattering windows for blocks in every direction.

My body shot through the other side of the building, into the street where people were running. 

The bodies of fleeing civilians exploded like fleshy water balloons as I crashed through them, the force of the impact turning them into a spray of blood and bone. I spat, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth as I picked the strand of intestines off my shoulder, flicking it away. The child I'd tried to protect was now unrecognizable, I was clumsy and squeezed the child so tightly against me it exploded. reduced to a pulped mass of tissue in my arms, its blood staining the front of my suit. A flash of anger and envy flickered through me—this child's suffering was over while mine continued indefinitely—I felt a flash of anger and envy, before the emotions quickly dismissed within me. 

"Insignificant," I hissed, dropping the remains with a wet splat onto the blood-slicked sidewalk.

Rising to my full height, I ignored the pain radiating through my system. Pain was merely information, and information could be disregarded. The mission remained paramount: eliminate the target. And now, the target had revealed himself.

Debris from the shattered building continued to rain down around me as I steadied my stance. My eyes—cold, calculating, devoid of mercy—locked onto the figure hovering above the rubble. Mohawk Mark. His blue and black suit hugged a physique identical to the original, but the spiky mohawk and the arrogant smirk set him apart. It was a face I had been programmed to destroy.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with cruel amusement that barely masked something deeper, "What do we have here? Another hero comes to play?—" His expression shifted, eyes widening slightly as he studied me more carefully. Recognition dawned in his gaze, followed by confusion that seemed genuine. "Wait... Y/N?"

The name struck me like a physical blow. Something flickered in the recesses of my mind—a half-remembered dream, perhaps, or an echo of a life that had been systematically erased. I groaned, clutching my head as fractured images threatened to coalesce into meaning. The collar responded instantly, electricity searing through my neural pathways, burning away the nascent memories before they could fully form.

My mission remained untainted by sentiment: eliminate the target.

I launched myself at him. My fist aimed for his jaw with enough force to shatter concrete, but he reacted with equal speed, blocking the blow and retaliating with a devastating kick to my ribs. Blood erupted from my mouth as the impact sent me crashing through yet another wall. The concrete disintegrated around me, offering no more resistance than tissue paper.

I rose from the wreckage without hesitation, the pain relegated to some distant corner of my consciousness as I assessed my opponent with newfound respect. It had been a long time since anyone had landed a blow with such force.

Mohawk Mark landed before me, his expression a mix of confusion and something else I couldn't name. He was hesitating, holding back his attacks. Why?

"Y/N, what are you doing?" he asked, his voice tight with emotion. "Don't you remember me? Or did the fucking Mark of this universe not meet you?! Love you!" he hissed, frustration clear in every word.

"Target identified," I responded, my voice empty and cold. I ignored his words completely - they meant nothing to a weapon. "Elimination protocol engaged."

I lunged forward with everything I had, throwing punches that could level buildings. Each blow carried enough force to shatter concrete, aimed to destroy rather than just hurt. But he was good - too good - dodging and blocking with growing desperation in his movements.

Something was wrong. He wasn't fighting back with full strength. He was holding back, his eyes fixed on me with an expression I couldn't understand.

"Fucking stop, Y/N!" he yelled, his voice cracking with desperation. "You don't have to do this y-you bitc–!"

I ignored him completely, focused only on my mission. Finally, an opening! My uppercut connected with his jaw, sending him flying skyward. I followed immediately, delivering another crushing blow to his chest that sent him crashing through the roof of a nearby building.

I zoomed to where he landed, pulling my fist back for what should be a finishing blow. But he caught my punch, his eyes wide and filled with emotion that made me hesitate.

"Y/N... please," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. When I saw he wasn't defending himself anymore, I delivered a savage kick to his ribs that sent him smashing into a burning bus. The metal folded around his body like it was made of paper.

"Shut up," I growled, feeling nothing as I approached. "You're a target. Nothing more."

He struggled to his feet, his mohawk now crooked, his blue and black suit torn and stained with blood and dirt. Despite the beating, his eyes never left mine.

"But... it's me, Mark! Don't you fucking remember?!" The pain in his voice wasn't just physical.

Remember? The word bounced around inside my empty mind. Remember what? My life was the cold lab, the endless tests, the collar's constant shocks. There was nothing before that. Nothing to remember.

I charged at him again, aiming for his throat this time. He dodged, grabbing my arm as he pulled me down for a punch and suddenly freezing as his eyes locked onto the collar around my neck. Something changed in his expression - understanding dawned.

"Shit, I mean it, stop!" he yelled, his voice mixing anger and desperation. "You don't have to do this! Are they fucking controlling you?!"

The collar sent a massive shock through my body, making my vision blur and my muscles spasm. I stumbled backward, momentarily stunned. He used the chance to grab my head, his fingers pressing against my skull as he pulled my head back to look at him directly. My eyes drazed against his fierce ones.

"Fucking listen to me!" he pleaded, his grip gentler than it should be. "I know who you are! I... loved you in my universe! B-before you—" His voice caught in his throat, and I watched, strangely fascinated, as tears formed in his brown eyes. His hands loosened, now almost cradling my head instead of restraining me.

Loved? The word was strange, meaningless to me. What did it mean to be loved? I shook my head, trying to clear the fog from the collar's shock. For a brief moment, I felt the control slipping, something else trying to surface. But it passed quickly, and I snapped back to my purpose. Kill.

"Fucking listen to me, Y/N," he begged, his voice rough with emotion. "They're controlling you! That collar... it's controlling your damn mind!"

I answered with my elbow, smashing it into his face with all my strength. I felt his nose shatter under the impact. Blood sprayed as he staggered backward, yet he looked unharmed. I didn't hesitate, unleashing a storm of punches that would crush a normal human to paste, but he wasn’t normal, he was a variant, of Invincible. He easily blocked, dodged, but I was relentless.

"Eliminate... target," I mumbled, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.

As I paused to gather strength for another attack, he lunged forward and grabbed me by the shoulders. Despite everything I'd done to him, his grip was surprisingly gentle.

"SHIT, you have to fight it, Y/N!" he urged, his eyes burning with intensity. "You're stronger than this! Tell me who's controlling you! I will fucking murder them!"

I struggled against his grip, my body fighting like a puppet on strings as the collar shocked me repeatedly. But something about his words, his voice - they were cutting through the fog in my mind, stirring something buried deep inside me. Fight? How could I fight what I was?

"She's not listening," a new voice called out, calm but commanding, making both of us freeze. "She simply can't.. She wasn't made for you, she was made for me."

A new figure landed beside Mohawk Mark - another Mark variant, but this one wore a red and gray suit. A mask with black eyesless goggles. Omni Invincible. His mask couldn't hide his grim expression as he studied me. "Plus, the collar has her completely under their control."

"We have to stop her," another voice hissed as a figure in dark blue and black landed heavily on the rooftop. Phantom Mark. His voice carried deep pain and barely controlled rage. "She's being used... I can't bear to see her again... not like this..."

Used? Why did they care what happened to me?

"Used?" A mocking voice cut through as another Mark variant landed directly in front of me and Mohawk. This one wore black and yellow - Sinister Mark. His smile was cruel as he stared at me with open interest. "She's a weapon. A god damn killing machine. And we're her targets." His grin widened, predatory and cold. "She's perfect, so much better than the fucking pathetic Y/N of my universe."

Perfect? What did he mean? Another… me? 

More Mark variants began to arrive, surrounding me on the rooftop. Each one showed recognition when they saw me, their faces displaying a mix of shock, grief, and something that looked like desperate hope. Viltrumite Mark, Emperor Mark, Prisoner Mark, and No Masked Mark all landed around me. Every threat I was supposed to eliminate was gathering in one place.

"Y/N," Viltrumite Mark said softly, his voice almost tender, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. A stark contrast to his white suit. "Wow... you look just like her. Just like my Y/N. Your face, that beautiful face... and your—" He stopped suddenly, his gaze fixing on the collar around my neck. His expression shifted from wonder to anger.

They all knew me? How was that possible when I didn't know any of them?

I felt something touch my back - warm, gentle - and it broke my frozen state. I lashed out blindly, my fist connecting with No Masked Mark who had tried to hug me. The impact sent him flying across the rooftop. Warmth? No. Target.

The electricity from the collar intensified, becoming nearly unbearable. I staggered under the pain, blood dripping from my nose as my vision blurred. My arm froze mid-swing as my muscles began to lock up. My strength was fading. But I must keep fighting.

"I believe she's too far gone," Emperor Mark said grimly, resignation heavy in his voice. "We have to disable her..."

"Are you fucking insane?! Hell no!" Mohawk Mark shouted, stepping between me and the others. His voice shook with fierce protectiveness. "I watched her die in my universe and I will not let it fucking happen again!"

Die? What did that mean?

The Marks surrounded me, their expressions complex mixtures of determination, sorrow, and fear. They weren't attacking to kill - they were trying to subdue me, to break the collar's hold. But every hit made the collar shock me harder.

Phantom Mark attacked first, moving faster than I could track in my weakened state. His fist aimed for my shoulder, and I managed to catch his arm, but the force still sent me staggering backward. I wasn't prepared for this coordinated attack, especially since they seemed to be holding back.

Omni Mark followed with a precise kick to my ribs. I twisted my body to block, but the impact still sent shockwaves of pain through me, launching me into the sky.

Viltrumite Mark and Emperor Mark moved together with perfect coordination, their attacks aimed to disable, not kill. They fought with ruthless efficiency, their movements showing years of combat experience. I blocked and countered as best I could, but their combined assault was overwhelming.

Prisoner Mark and No Masked Mark fought with less precision but equal power. Their attacks were wild and unpredictable, making them hard to counter. I dodged a powerful swing from Prisoner Mark only to be caught by a kick from No Masked Mark.

Mohawk Mark moved differently from the others. His eyes never left mine, filled with desperate pleading. His attacks lacked killing intent - he was trying to restrain me rather than hurt me. He repeatedly tried to grab me, to hold me still, but I was too quick.

And then there was Sinister Mark. He moved like a predator stalking prey, his attacks brutal and precise. His eyes gleamed with cruel enjoyment, fixed on me with disturbing intensity. He wasn't just fighting - he was enjoying every moment.

He feinted high before kicking my knee with savage force. Pain shot through my leg as I stumbled. He immediately followed with a vicious uppercut to my jaw that made my vision go white for a moment. I spat blood, the metallic taste filling my mouth as I nearly bit through my tongue.

"Come on, Y/N," he taunted, his voice low and excited. "Show me what you've got."

Unlike the others, Sinister Mark wasn't holding back. He reveled in the violence, moving with brutal efficiency. A predatory grin never left his face as he aimed to cripple me. His fist connected with my jaw again, sending another shockwave through my skull. I managed to retaliate with a kick to his chest that sent him crashing through a skyscraper.

New York was completely destroyed around us. I couldn't handle all eight of them at once. It was too many... but I had to fight. Must focus.

"Enough!" Omni Mark shouted, his voice echoing through the ruined city. His face was set with grim determination. "We have to end this!"

He launched himself at me with perfect control and precision. Before I could dodge, he grabbed me in a powerful bear hug, pinning my arms to my sides, his chin pressing to the top of my head. I struggled against his grip, trying desperately to break free, but he was too strong, and I was weakening by the second.

The other Marks surrounded me, their combined strength impossible to overcome. Their expressions mixed pain and resolve as they held me tight. I hissed and fought, biting Sinister's hand when he tried to touch my face. He pulled back, laughing as he licked the drop of blood from his hand.

"She's so feisty, I love it~" he purred, eyes gleaming.

"Enough! Come on guys, we have to get this fucking collar off," Phantom Mark said, his voice strained with sorrow. "That's the only way to free her."

Mohawk Mark reached for the collar, his fingers trembling. Fear and determination battled in his eyes as he hesitated.

"If we remove it, she could lose control," Omni Mark warned gravely. "She could destroy everything, or worse... we could lose her."

"It's the only chance we have," Mohawk Mark replied firmly, his fierce eyes locked with mine. For a moment, they softened with an emotion I couldn't name. "We have to trust her."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gripped the collar around my neck.

"AHHHHHHH-!" A scream of pure agony tore from my throat as he tried to break the collar. The device unleashed its final defense - a massive electrical current that ripped through my entire body and into anyone touching me. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt, beyond what any human could survive.

The world around me faded to white as electricity consumed everything.

The air crackled with raw energy, the shockwaves from the collar's defense system rippling outwards like violent tsunamis across the already devastated rooftop. Y/N's screams tore through the ruined city—a primal, guttural sound that sliced through the hearts of the gathered Marks like a heated blade. Her body convulsed violently in their grip, crimson streams of blood trickling from her ears as her eyes rolled back, revealing only whites.

Omni Mark's muscles strained beneath his crimson and slate-gray suit, veins bulging like ropes under his skin as he maintained his vise-like grip on Y/N. Despite the electrical current surging through him, his face remained a mask of controlled determination—only the slight twitch at the corner of his right eye betraying his agony.

"Hold steady," he commanded, voice unwavering despite the pain. His analytical gaze never left Y/N's face, studying every microexpression with obsessive intensity. "The collar's defense system is activating exactly as anticipated. Maintain your positions." Behind his disciplined exterior, a possessive gleam flickered in his eyes—the calculated look of a general who had just discovered his most valuable weapon.

"FUCK! This hurts like a motherfucking BITCH!" Mohawk Mark roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he yanked at the collar with manic desperation. His once-proud mohawk now drooped pathetically to one side, plastered to his scalp with sweat that poured down his face in rivulets. His wild, bloodshot eyes darted frantically between Y/N's contorted face and the other Marks. "Back the FUCK off, assholes! This is MY moment with her!" he snarled when Emperor Mark moved closer, his voice cracking with equal parts pain and possessiveness.

Viltrumite Mark held Y/N's thrashing legs with unwavering strength, his pristine white uniform now marred with smoking char marks. Unlike the others who grimaced and cursed through their pain, he maintained an almost regal posture—back ramrod straight, chin lifted imperiously even as electricity danced across his skin.

"Such primitive technology," he remarked coldly, his voice carrying the smooth, cultured tones of someone accustomed to absolute obedience. His steely gaze traced the contours of Y/N's face with unmistakable ownership. "In my empire, she would have been conditioned properly. My Y/N required no such crude devices to ensure compliance." His fingers tightened possessively around her ankles, leaving white imprints on her skin.

No Masked Mark hovered anxiously at the periphery, bouncing on his heels like an impatient child. His unmasked face—so similar yet different from the others—contorted with a peculiar mixture of eagerness and uncertainty.

"Will she remember me when she wakes up?" he asked, voice tinged with childlike hope that seemed bizarrely out of place amid the destruction. His eyes never left Y/N's face, a hungry desperation evident in his gaze. "I won't let you suffer like William and my Y/N did," he murmured, the words tumbling out in a rushed whisper before his expression hardened again with determination.

Phantom Mark's grip on Y/N's arm was white-knuckled, his midnight blue and obsidian suit smoking where electrical feedback scorched the material. Unlike the others whose focus remained entirely on Y/N, his haunted gaze occasionally darted to the ruined cityscape surrounding them, as if seeing ghosts in the debris.

"We're going to lose her!" he cried out, voice thick with an emotion he couldn't fully suppress. The perpetual fury that typically blazed in his eyes momentarily gave way to raw grief—a glimpse into the trauma that drove him. "She looks just like my Y/N when they took her from me." His grip tightened, unwilling to let go even as the pain intensified, a guttural yell tearing from his throat as another surge of electricity pulsed through them all.

Emperor Mark strode forward with the confident swagger of royalty despite the crisis unfolding before him. His uniform, adorned with subtle gold embellishments, smoldered at the edges as he moved to assist despite Mohawk's furious objections.

"This primitive technology is beneath us," he declared, his voice carrying the practiced resonance of one accustomed to addressing multitudes. His movements were precise, efficient—a ruler accustomed to servants handling menial tasks now forced to act himself. "In my empire, she would have been treated with the respect befitting her connection to me." His eyes tracked possessively over Y/N's convulsing form as he grasped part of the collar, a barely audible hiss escaping through clenched teeth as electricity surged through his fingertips.

Through it all, Sinister Mark prowled the perimeter of the group like a predator assessing wounded prey. Unlike the others who betrayed their pain through grimaces and curses, his lips curled into a twisted smile that never quite reached his cold eyes. The black and yellow of his suit seemed to absorb the shadows around them, making him appear more demon than man as he circled the struggling group.

"Look at you pathetic fuckers," he sneered, voice dropping to a dangerous purr that somehow cut through the cacophony of pain and destruction. "All of you, burnt and crying over her like she's the last woman in the multiverse." His eyes gleamed with cruel delight as they raked over Y/N's suffering form, lingering on the places where her suit had torn during the battle. "Mine was weak, useless when it mattered," he continued, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. "But this one..." His voice trailed off into an appreciative growl. "This one has real potential."

He continued circling them with predatory grace, each step deliberate and measured, like a lion stalking gazelles. The others, too focused on Y/N and their own pain, barely registered his calculating assessment until he suddenly stepped forward with decisive purpose.

"We'll do it my way," he declared, voice slicing through their collective agony with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. "Otherwise she's fried, and none of us gets what we want." There was no benevolence in his offer—only ruthless pragmatism and thinly veiled desire.

Sinister Mark moved into position with fluid grace, eyes locking with each Mark in turn. His gaze was sharp and challenging, daring them to defy him while simultaneously asserting dominance. "We're going to rip that collar off her neck, all at the same time. Understand that, you pussies?"

"But the shock—" Omni Mark began, his typically calculated façade cracking slightly as another surge of pain tore through his body.

"The shock is killing her!" Sinister Mark snapped, genuine anger flashing in his eyes like lightning. For the briefest moment, something almost like concern flickered across his features before being submerged beneath his usual cruel demeanor. "We either pull it off now, together, or she dies. Are you all going to be useless now?"

Despite their differences, despite the simmering tensions and individual desires to claim Y/N for themselves, the Marks exchanged glances of reluctant agreement. In this moment, keeping her alive took priority over their competition.

Sinister Mark positioned himself beside Omni and Mohawk, placing his hands on the collar with surprising gentleness. A low, unsettling laugh escaped his lips as electricity coursed through him—the pain seemingly pleasurable to his twisted mind. Prisoner and No Masked Mark grabbed the other side, their faces twisting into grimaces of determination. Phantom and Viltrumite followed suit, hissing breaths escaping through clenched teeth.

"On my mark," Sinister commanded, voice cutting through the chaos with sharp authority. "One..." His fingers tightened around the collar. "Two..." His eyes locked onto Y/N's face with possessive intensity. "THREE!"

With a collective roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of what remained of New York City, the Marks pulled. Omni Mark and Mohawk Mark yanked with such force that tendons stood out like steel cables in their necks, while Viltrumite and Phantom used their strength to counter Y/N's violent convulsions. The air around them crackled and sparked with deadly energy, the building beneath them crumbling further as a deafening SNAP echoed through the ruins.

The collar broke free.

The electrical storm ceased instantly, energy dispersing into the air with a final concussive shockwave that sent debris flying in all directions. Y/N's body went limp between them, her screams fading to an eerie silence that felt more ominous than her previous agony. The Marks, exhausted and scorched, collapsed around her on the rooftop, their breath coming in ragged gasps that disturbed the settling dust.

Sinister Mark recovered first, shoving Mohawk aside with unnecessary force to kneel beside Y/N's still form. His eyes traveled over her with unmasked hunger as he reached out to trace the line of her jaw with surprising gentleness—a predator admiring his prize. "She's still alive," he announced, voice unexpectedly soft, almost reverent. "But barely..."

"Get your fucking hands off her," Mohawk Mark growled, struggling to his knees despite his injuries. His normally arrogant demeanor was stripped away, leaving raw desperation in its place as his eyes never left Y/N's face. "I found her first, you sick piece of shit."

"In your juvenile fantasies perhaps," Emperor Mark countered icily, moving closer to Y/N's limp form despite his weakened state. His regal bearing remained intact even while injured, chin lifted with imperial disdain as he regarded Mohawk. "She requires proper care and guidance, which only I am qualified to provide."

Omni Mark silenced them with a sharply raised hand, his authoritative presence reasserting itself even while injured. "Enough," he commanded, voice brooking no argument. "She needs time to recover before any of us make claims." His eyes, however, told a different story—calculating grey depths already mapping out strategies to separate Y/N from the others when the moment was right.

The Marks exchanged wary glances, temporarily united by their shared goal but irrevocably divided by their desire for the same prize. They had saved Y/N from the collar's control, but the battle for her had only just begun—a new war brewing beneath the surface of their temporary alliance.

"We need to get her out of here," Omni Mark said, his voice low and urgent as his eyes methodically scanned the horizon. His brow furrowed in a deep, concerned frown that belied his typically impassive demeanor. "Angstrom won't wait forever. We still have a mission to complete."

A tense silence fell over the group, heavy with unspoken implications. The mission. The destruction of this universe. It was their objective, their reason for being here. But now, with Y/N lying before them, their priorities had irreversibly shifted.

"What now?" No Masked Mark asked, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes, wide and filled with an almost childlike worry, never left Y/N's face. His features drawn and pale, he anxiously gnawed at his lower lip—a nervous habit that revealed the youth beneath his power.

The original mission, Angstrom Levy's directive to destroy the mainstream universe, loomed over them like a shadow. They were here to wreak havoc, to dismantle this reality and claim it for themselves. But the discovery of Y/N had thrown their carefully orchestrated plans into beautiful disarray.

"Well we can't just fucking leave her here, dipshit," Mohawk Mark snapped, his voice cracking with emotion despite his attempt at his usual abrasiveness. His jaw set in a determined line, eyes blazing with fierce protectiveness as he hovered over Y/N's still form. "Not like this anyway. We need to find somewhere safe—" He trailed off, gaze darting around the ruined cityscape as if a solution might materialize from the rubble.

"A safe place?" Prisoner Mark scoffed, voice dripping with bitter cynicism. The scarred tissue of his face twisted into a mocking grimace as he gestured at the devastation surrounding them. "In this ruined world? We destroyed everything worth saving." Despite his harsh words, his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern as they drifted to Y/N's unconscious form.

"We'll find one," Viltrumite Mark stated with cold certainty, voice carrying the weight of imperial decree. His eyes, usually hard as flint, softened imperceptibly when they fell upon Y/N. "There must be somewhere untouched by our... activities." The slight hesitation in his typically smooth delivery revealed an unusual uncertainty.

"We can't abandon Angstrom's mission either," Omni Mark countered pragmatically, crossing muscular arms over his broad chest. His analytical mind was already formulating contingencies, weighing variables with machine-like efficiency. "He'll notice something is wrong if we deviate too significantly from the plan."

Sinister Mark rose to his full height, rolling his shoulders as if shedding a burden. His eyes—cold and calculating—swept across the ruined cityscape with predatory assessment. His features hardened into a mask of ruthless determination as he reached a decision.

"We'll do both," he declared, voice a low growl that somehow carried more authority than Omni Mark's reasoned commands. "We continue the destruction," he elaborated with a careless shrug that belied the intensity of his gaze, "but first, we take her somewhere safe."

He sighed—an oddly human gesture from such a monstrous figure—and pointed toward the outskirts of the city, where the skeletal remains of skyscrapers gradually gave way to the dense, seemingly untouched wilderness beyond. "There," he stated with absolute certainty. "We'll find a secluded spot, somewhere Angstrom won't think to look. Somewhere we can... protect her."

The way he lingered over the word "protect" sent an involuntary shiver through the group, but none dared contradict him. With a collective nod of reluctant agreement, the Marks carefully lifted Y/N's limp form, each positioning themselves to maintain contact with her—their movements gentle despite their immense strength. Viltrumite Mark delicately wiped a droplet of blood from her cheek with a tenderness that seemed entirely at odds with his imperial bearing.

They rose into the air in tight formation, carrying their precious cargo through the smoke-filled sky, leaving behind the ravaged husk of what had once been New York City.

Eventually, they found a secluded cabin nestled deep within the dense forest, a small, unassuming structure that seemed miraculously untouched by the chaos they had unleashed upon the world. Inside, they discovered a lone occupant—an elderly man whose rheumy eyes widened with terror at the sight of eight identical men, each bearing the face of destruction that had dominated emergency broadcasts before they failed.

A swift, brutal act silenced his frightened cries, leaving the cabin empty and waiting for its new occupant—a practical necessity that none of the Marks questioned or regretted.

They laid Y/N on the worn wooden floor of the small cabin with surprising gentleness. Her body remained still and pale against the rough-hewn planks, face tear-stained and peaceful despite the violence of her liberation. Tendrils of her hair fanned out around her head like a dark halo, slightly frizzed from the electrical assault she had endured. The Marks gathered around her in a protective circle, their expressions a complex mixture of concern, determination, and barely concealed desire as they gazed upon the woman who mirrored the one they had each lost in their respective universes.

"We'll take shifts," Omni Mark announced, instantly assuming command with practiced ease. His calculating eyes scanned the modest room with meticulous attention to detail, mentally cataloging potential threats and escape routes. "Someone will stay with her at all times. The rest will continue the destruction, maintaining our cover while we monitor her condition."

"And the mission?" No Masked Mark questioned anxiously, raising his arms in a helpless gesture. His youthful features contorted with uncertainty, clearly torn between their original destructive purpose and this unexpected development.

"We'll continue," Omni Mark replied with firm assurance, locking eyes with No Masked Mark. He placed a steadying hand on the younger variant's shoulder, grip firm but not unkind. "But we'll approach it strategically. Create diversions, spread out our forces, minimize unnecessary collateral damage. We'll maintain the appearance of following Angstrom's directives, but our true priority remains here." His eyes flickered meaningfully toward Y/N's unconscious form.

"She'll wake up," Mohawk Mark insisted with desperate conviction, roughly wiping at his reddened eyes with the back of his hand. The vulnerability in his voice was startling, stripping away his carefully constructed arrogance to reveal raw emotion beneath. "She fucking has to. She can't leave me again... not after I just found her."

Sinister Mark observed Mohawk's naked emotion with evident disgust, a contemptuous sneer curling his lip. Yet when he moved forward to kneel beside Y/N, his movements possessed an unexpected grace, almost reverent in their precision. His fingers—capable of crushing steel and ending lives without effort—traced the delicate lines of her face with obsessive gentleness, exploring every curve and hollow as if committing them to memory.

"She will," he said, his voice a low, rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate through the cabin's wooden bones. Unlike the desperate hope in Mohawk's tone, Sinister's words carried the weight of absolute certainty—a predator's confidence in claiming what he considered already his. His eyes—typically cold and calculating—burned with an intensity that made the other Marks shift uncomfortably. "And when she does, we'll be ready; waiting for those beautiful eyes to reopen to us."

The possessive emphasis he placed on "us" fooled no one—least of all himself. His fingers lingered a moment too long on the pulse point at her throat, his expression momentarily softening into something almost tender before the mask of cruelty slammed back into place.

The Marks had a new mission now. The destruction of the mainstream universe still bound them by obligation and necessity, but they were now equally bound by a newfound sense of purpose—a desperate, collective desire to protect the woman they had found. She was both stranger and intimately familiar, a phantom made flesh, the woman they had each lost in their respective universes, and now, the woman they were collectively determined to save—from others, from the world, and perhaps from themselves.

They began dividing their forces with military precision, Omni Mark drafting plans with Emperor Mark's input while Viltrumite offered cold, tactical suggestions. They would spread across different continents, maintaining the façade of random destruction that Angstrom expected, while rotating shifts to ensure Y/N was never left unguarded. Paris would fall next, then Moscow, Tokyo, and beyond—a symphony of calculated chaos designed to mask their true priority.

The first day of their war against this universe was far from over, but the discovery of Y/N had fundamentally altered its purpose. What had begun as simple conquest—the destruction of one universe among infinite possibilities—had transformed into something far more complex and personal. Each Mark now fought with renewed purpose, their actions guided not merely by Angstrom's directives but by the silent promise they had made to the unconscious woman in the cabin.

The mission was no longer just about conquest; it was about salvation—about reclaiming a lost love, about rewriting a tragic fate that had played out eight different ways across eight different realities. In their own universes, they had failed her, each in their own way. Too weak, too late, too cruel, too blind—their regrets took different forms but shared the same bitter taste. This Y/N offered something none of them had dared hope for: a second chance.

They would keep this Y/N safe at any cost, jealously guarded even from each other. None spoke this truth aloud, but it hung in the air between them, a silent agreement underscored by watchful gazes and lingering touches.

"Mohawk stays with her first," Omni Mark announced, his tone making it clear this was not a suggestion but a command. His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the flash of rebellion on Sinister's face. "He found her first. We'll rotate every six hours. No exceptions."

The others nodded with varying degrees of reluctance, Viltrumite's jaw tightening with barely contained objection while Emperor Mark's fingers drummed an impatient rhythm against his thigh. Only Sinister Mark seemed truly at ease, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if he already saw moves ahead in a game the others didn't realize they were playing.

As the Marks departed one by one to continue their orchestrated destruction across the globe, Mohawk Mark settled beside Y/N's still form. Alone at last, his carefully maintained façade of arrogance and anger crumbled like the buildings they had destroyed. With shaking fingers, he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch feather-light against her skin.

"I found you again," he whispered, voice cracking with emotion he would never show the others. "And this time, I won't fucking lose you. I swear it."

Outside the cabin, a gentle breeze stirred the trees, nature continuing its rhythms oblivious to the schemes of gods and monsters. Inside, a different kind of war was just beginning—one fought not with fists and fury, but with patience and possession. Eight versions of the same man, each determined to claim what they believed was rightfully theirs alone.

And at the center of it all, still and silent, lay Y/N—oblivious to the tempest her very existence had unleashed, unaware that she had become the eye of a storm that would reshape this universe and perhaps beyond.

–––––––––––––––––– ☆ TBC!! ☆

Hope ya'll liked it ♡ Leave a comment on whatya think!! next chapter will be from Mohawk's p.o.v Please keep reading, lovely!(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ Pt.2 ☆ 10 parts total! - The series is completed

Smut included with Sinister and Mohawk -

Fluff/Smut series following main one!! (𝙰𝚣𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚣𝚘𝚗𝚜) pt.1-2-3

[rinky-dinky-dink]

Star Sanses But There's More Of Them

Figured I would make a sort of master post for my Star Sanses interpretation! This is just an idea I'm playing around with, I don't plan on making a proper storyline for them at the moment. Just me exploring characters!

Long post ahead-

General:

All five members have star badges, per Blue's insistence ("So they look more like a team!" Ink liked the idea of them all sharing a design element, and Sugarplum thought the idea was fun, so Dream and Red were outvoted). The badges are equippable items to give each member a bit of a boost in combat (exact stats have yet to be decided).

Combat:

The five of them end up a pretty efficient team in fights, especially against Nightmare's Gang (plus Error sometimes). Even when Dream is occupied fully with Nightmare, and Ink's attention is on Error - Blue, Red, and Sugarplum manage to hold their own even as incodes. Combat roles (per the rules of DnD, for no real reason) are as follows:

Dream is the leader, he maintains party focus and morale, and generally decides the strategy going into a fight. His ability to sense the feelings of others allows him to monitor his teammates even during combat, so he can call for a retreat if necessary. (Switches to/also serves controller role, when needed.)

Ink is the group's striker, he's fast and he hits hard with precision, but it can be difficult for him to focus on more than one enemy at a time. Stays up close to the opponents, falls back behind the others on occasion to refill his paints or regain his bearings. (When fully necessary, he can use his brush to take broader strokes and serve as controller with color coded AoE attacks. Can serve as leader in extremely rare situations, but that's not nearly as fun, so he's content to let Dream do it.)

Blue is the defender, he's the tankiest of the group despite his shorter stature. He has the highest base defense of the group's three incodes, since he's essentially a Papyrus. Not much aggression in combat, preferring to help cover the others as they attack. (Can switch to striker role, if necessary.)

Red is the controller of the group, his bones and blasters let him cover a wide area from a safer distance. His stats still aren't great, so he hangs back from up close combat, and relies on Blue to help maintain the distance, especially when he gets tired and needs a bit of time to recover.

Sugarplum is also a controller, technically speaking. He focuses less on direct combat and more on effects, usually ACTing to lower an opponent's AT, DF, or speed. He also hangs back from direct fighting most of the time, and heals the others (mostly Blue) when their HP gets too low.

General Team Dynamics:

Dream: The leader of the group, as agreed by everyone else. He's friendly and easy to get along with, so he serves as a good "face" for the team. (Ink also thinks Dream having his own "gang" is a fun parallel to Nightmare!) Keeps the group on track when on missions, when the others' antics (affectionate) threaten to veer them off course. He's nervous about the responsibility this sort of role comes with, and whether or not his aura is skewing his teammates' evaluation of him as a leader, but he's determined to do his best.

Ink: Local menace. Bastard. Usually the cause/intigator of the team's distractions. Here to have a good time, occasionally at the expense of others. Sends cursed memes to the team groupchat at 3am. Luckily the others don't mind his sense of humor (Red thinks he's funny as hell sometimes), and Blue's general enthusiasm usually just serves as fuel to his fire. Will randomly give his teammates a thoughtful gift (a trinket he found somewhere that reminded him of them), and then steal food off their plate before they can say "thank you." Overall he's having a good time, and the others have just accepted this weird eldritch paint skeleton on their team.

Blue: Underswap Sans! As peppy as ever, always there to cheer on his friends and tell them he believes in them. Tends to get caught up in his own excitement sometimes, but means well! His ability to befriend even the more hostile residents of the multiverse makes him the glue of the team, keeping everyone together and on the same page even when Dream and Ink argue, or Red is a bit too abraisive. Since being exposed to the multiverse and joining the team, he's changed his focus from being a royal guard back home, to being a hero alongside his friends. There are people to be helped, and he's found the recognition he's always wanted but couldn't quite achieve back home. He's still technically a sentry back in Snowdin, and still has to return relatively frequently to keep the whole multiverse thing under wraps, but his brother helps cover for his absence. (Papyrus isn't super fond of the whole concept, especially not Ink, but he supports his brother 100%.)

Red: Underfell Sans! The designated grump of the group, he still hasn't really shaken off the defensive habits he learned from back home. The "tough guy" of the Stars, he's generally not a bad guy once you get past that wall he keeps up. Is steadily improving, unlearning a lifetime of defensiveness and distrust is difficult. (His jacket is heavy, and he would drop it over a teammate's shoulders in lieu of a weighted blanket if they needed it though. Just don't go spreading those kinds of rumors about him.) Has not told his brother about his multiverse-hopping escapades with the other Stars, partially out of worry that his universe will start bleeding out into more peaceful ones. He's dodging that particular conversation with everything he has.

Sugarplum: Underlust Sans! Doesn't really live in his own universe anymore, spends 99% of his time in the Omega Timeline. Doesn't like to talk about his universe, dodges any questions in relation to it (luckily in multiversal etiquette it's considered rude to ask questions about someone's universe, unless invited to do so). Didn't start out as much of a fighter, and still doesn't quite match up to the other Stars, but he can hold his own in a pinch. All the fighting and training and running around burns energy, which helps keep his soul from acting up. Wine aunt energy, always up to date on drama in the OT. Generally pretty chill, with an easygoing attitude that lets him help Blue smooth things over when conflicts arise in the team. Drinking buddies with Red, can relate to having a messed up universe he'd rather not discuss.

~~~~~~~~~

Dream -> @/jokublog Ink -> @/comyet Blue -> @/popcornpr1nce Red -> @/underfell Sugarplum -> @/nsfwshamecave

[pomefioredove]

hi!! could you pls do headcanons for the housewardens (+jamil) with a reader that stims? like if they get nervous or excited they do flappy hands! Gn reader, and the characters are crushing on reader but they’re not dating yet please! Thank you :>

:) of course! I stim so I get it LOL

summary: reader who stims! type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic for most, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu

Riddle already has a high "nonsense tolerance" when it comes to you

if you were anyone else, he would get overstimulated so fast

but, it's you

and he likes you

and he puts a lot more effort into making you comfortable around him than he would ever admit

so, by all means! fidget, stim, hum, he likes all of you

and if anyone else has a problem with it, they can go through him, first

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

if you can live with a little teasing, Leona can live with your stims

kidding

...kind of

he would never admit it to himself, but the way you get excited is kinda endearing to him

(major cuteness aggression)

so he just can't help teasing you a tiny bit for it

lovingly, of course

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul has an eye for detail and a love of figuring people out

and admiring observing you is one of his favorite pastimes!

he might need the information later

for... reasons.

he finds your mannerisms... interesting. your nervous ticks are so different from the other student's

then Floyd suggests you're obviously stimming; it just looks different "'cause you're on land and stuff,"

it makes sense (though he doesn't have to be so smug about it)

mystery solved

but Azul keeps staring at you, anyway. for... reasons.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

unsurprisingly, Kalim loves it

if he doesn't stim already, he might just start

it's a good way to let off some energy when he's overexcited, or calm him when he's nervous

(which happens more often than you'd think)

he would be baffled by the idea that people find it annoying

or weird, or childish

if he felt like someone was staring, or about to say something to you, he'd start stimming with you

power in numbers, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

surprisingly (or unsurprisingly?) Jamil doesn't really... care

at this point, he's dealt with everything

a nuclear bomb could go off and he probably wouldn't even react

that's a slow tuesday for him

it's only during the metaphorical nuclear fallout

(when he has that migraine he always gets)

that he'll ask you for quiet and space

and that's the very most he'll say about it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil isn't ignorant

he's not going to punish you for something that you find helpful

...and Rook has his little quirks, too

besides, there's nothing you could do that he wouldn't find endearing

what he will do, however, is help you manage

to your comfort, of course

there's a drawer full of stim toys in the Pomefiore lounge probably

and if not, Rook probably has a doohickey or two that can keep your hands occupied during quiet/important/etc occasions

otherwise, you're free to do whatever

I'm gonna be so real tbh I see Pomefiore as a very disability-friendly dorm and I'll die on that hill

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia! the freak himself

(affectionate)

nah, he doesn't care

he probably has a ton of his own stims he's already super embarrassed about

so he's definitely not going to say anything to you

if anything, it makes him feel better about himself

it's cute when you do it

he starts 3D printing you toys he think you'll like, most that he designed himself

so, he does care, but... in a good way!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

LMAO okay. wait

between Lilia, Silver, and Sebek, there's no way Malleus would see stimming as anything but normal

Lilia probably starts crawling on the walls like a spider when he's excited

so hand-flapping is like aw... cute! :) to Malleus

he would, will, and has stared down anyone who makes a face or a nasty comment about it

so you can be sure that no one will ever say anything mean to you about it!

like, ever again

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (4)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You give the stranger your name but he just tells you to call him S. He seems a lot more important than you, so that makes sense. He must be if he's throwing around money so easily. A lot of money.

That seems to be on his mind too.

"Did you get the transfer?" He asks as he takes off his sunglasses.

You rub between your thumb and index nervously. You can't stop fidgeting. You glance around for what must be the dozenth time. You feel like everyone is watching you, that they all know you're doing something so stupid. Yet, nobody is looking at you.

"I... didn't check," you murmur. "I've just been waiting."

"Sorry again for making you wait," he puts his large hands on the table, framing the tall mug with his fingers. "You know what they say about meeting people online."

You snort, "ha, yeah."

You look out the window and exhale. That only stirs your nerves. You face him and sit back in the chair, folding your hands in your lap.

"I'm sorry. I think this was a bad idea." You say.

"Is it? We haven't even talked."

"Yeah, but... I should be looking for a job or... my mom. She's all alone..." you wring your hands.

"I want to help with that," he turns his hands and taps his fingers on the table. He sniffs. "I'm trying to figure out how to say what I want to say. And that's what it is. I want to help."

"But why? I don't know you. You don't me." Your teeth want to chatter, you're so nervous.

His chests rises and falls. His throat bobs. He resets his posture.

"That would be part of it." His blue eyes bore into yours. They're so bright and bold. "Getting to know each other."

You shake your head, confused.

"I could help with the medical bills and groceries. Whatever you need. It would just be..." he extends his fingers as he gestures with his hands. "An exchange. An arrangement. All you have to do is spend time with me."

You stare at him. Your eyes search his face. Your mouth slants. You want to laugh. It sounds absurd. Yet, he looks serious. You straighten your lips.

"By spend time you mean..." you shiver and mash your hands together in your lap. "They don't have people you can pay in New York."

He sighs. "It's not just... if physical things happen..." he pauses and his cheek twitches. "I'd prefer we just feel it out and see where it goes."

You look down. He can dress it up and say it as carefully as he likes. You've heard about these things. There's women on TikTok who post videos about new handbags or designer shoes and their 'daddies'. But they are so beautiful. They are interesting. You're just... afraid.

He coughs and shifts his chair closer. "I know it's not easy to be in your position. Sick parents are difficult. My mom... when I was about your age, she was really sick too. Still is but we manage."

You peek up at him. You don't know what to say. There's that voice in your head telling you that the answer is clear as day; no. You're not a prostitute. No, you have dignity. Then there's the other one, the louder one. You have nothing and you're about to lose even that.

"How about this? Before you make up your mind, let me take you around town. We'll just get to know each other. Baseline." He suggests. "We'll have our coffee, order some lunch, and you can show me around."

You bite your cheek. That's not too bad. He's not pushing you. If anything, he seems just as unsure. That makes you feel a bit better.

But can you really do this? Can you sell yourself like that? He's still just a stranger. Still just S.

Your head is reeling. What would your mom think? Well, you couldn't tell her, just like you never told her what you're really doing right then.

You bring your hand up to rub your shoulder. You hook your fingers around, shielding yourself, and nod.

"Alright, I'll try." You agree, keeping the rest of the sentence inside; I don't have any other options.

His cheeks dimple. The lines on his face only add to his good looks. He really isn't that bad. A bit older. Maybe a lot older.

"So, you hungry? What do you want?" He looks over at the chalkboard menu.

You follow his gaze. You focus on the menu. It's a bit easier to do that.

"My treat," he assures.

"Um, thanks," you scratch your neck nervously. If it were up to you, you wouldn't waste the money. "The veggie croissant sounds okay."

"Sure, anything else," he stands.

You push your shoulders back and and shake your head. "Thank you. That's more than enough."

"No problem," he turns and struts up to join the line.

You watch him. His shirt is taut across his shoulder blades and around his biceps. He's built better than any man you've seen before. Confident. He's cool as he waits patiently and steps up calmly to order. He slides out his wallet and swipes his card. Not a second thought. No tallying up rent or bills or even just the cost of a bag of rice.

He folds up his wallet and spins. You avert your attention to the table. He approaches and sits again.

"They'll bring it to us," he says.

"Okay," you accept. You can't look at him.

He shifts. "Look, I don't see you as just... I see you as a person. I hope you realise that. I really do want to help you."

"Yeah, I know." You swallow. "I'm sorry. I'm just... thinking."

"That's okay," he assures. "Not rushing you. So uh... I'll tell you about me a bit. If you want?"

You nod and make yourself look. His eyes are almost sparkling as they stick to you. You're a stranger to him too. How can he be so interested? Just you and your butterflies.

"I have a business. I have been running it for the last fifteen years. Before that, I did some corporate work but I really didn't like the politics, so started my own thing," he explains. "I live in New York, I watch baseball, I like to draw. Or liked to. I don't have a lot of time for that anymore." He pauses and holds up his finger. "One sec."

He reaches to his chest pocket and flips up the flap. He slides out a napkin. He unfolds it on the table.

"Got bored on the plane," he slides it over to you. It's a sketch of a butterfly. It's really good too.

"Wow, you did that?" You ask.

"Mm hm," he hums. "I'm a bit rusty."

"No, it's really good," you lean in to admire it. "Wow."

He's quiet. You put your fingers on the edge of the napkin as you look it over.

"My mom used to draw. Paint, too. She's really good. Like you."

You peek up at him. There's a subtle curve in his lips.

"It's... nothing but you can keep it if you want."

"I think it's more than nothing," you pick it up. "That's so cool."

"Ha, thanks. Think the real thing is cooler."

He sits back and looks over as one of the cafe employees approaches. She puts down your plates and tells you to enjoy. You tuck away the napkin.

"Looks delicious," S says.

It does and it smells even better. You hesitate as he picks up half his sandwich. You stare at yours.

"Everything okay?" He asks.

You think about your mom. She doesn't eat much these days but you wish you could bring her good food like this. You resist a frown.

"It's all good," you assure. "Thanks so much. It looks great."

You pick up half the croissant, careful not to let the contents spill out.

"So, where do you work?" He asks.

You nibble and swallow tightly. "Oh, just... customer service at a few stores. Nothing special."

"Hm, that must be stressful."

"It can be," you shrug. "Not the most stress I have right now... but er, whatever."

"Not whatever but I can understand not wanting to talk about it." He says. "Any other hobbies? Besides the butterflies?"

"No..." you drone. "Just watch some TV here and there. Go for walks when I can. There isn't too much going on around here." Not much you can afford.

"Any recommendations? I don't watch much but I'm always open to binge," he says.

"Not unless you're a fan of 90s sitcoms," you shake your head.

"Don't mind them," he says.

He leans forward to take a bite. You focus on your own sandwich. Your stomach is mulching painfully with each morsel. You only realise then how hungry you are.

🦋

S is even bigger walking next to him. You take him down the block to the park. You don't often come to this part of town but it's nicer than your neighbourhood. There's a fountain there.

You collide with S as he tries to follow the path but you find yourself distracted by the birds bathing in the water. You apologise and back up. He chuckles and turns to look at the fountain.

"Pretty. Peaceful," he says as he stops to watch them. "Different. New York is just... everything."

"Oh, it must be super busy there."

"Yeah, very," he agrees. "This is nice though."

"Probably boring to someone like you."

"Boring is nice. Boring is... easier," he says.

He starts toward the fountain and you follow. He stops at the edge and turns to sit. You do the same. The water trickles, the scent of it stirring the air.

You peer around. Another mother with her stroller, a couple and their dog, a brood of kids and their parents. It's all so nice and perfect and sweet. All these people are so happy. They don't have to worry about a thing.

You can barely remember the days when you weren't bound in anxiety. When you were the little girl skipping down the pathway. It feels like it's always been this.

You turn away to hide the gleam in your eyes. You don't know why you're thinking about that right now. You dab your eyes with your knuckle and sigh. You make yourself sit up.

"It's pretty here," you say.

He's watching you. You can feel it. Did he notice?

"It's gorgeous," he agrees but he isn't looking at the trees or the flowers.

You sniff and turn to watch the birds again. You make yourself smile. He shifts to see them too.

"Is your mom waiting for you?" He asks.

"She'll wonder where I am. She always does," you cross one arm across your middle. "I told her I was going to the bank to pay bills and do some running around."

He looks at you and nods.

"I didn't mention you. She doesn't know at all." You say. "It's just... I wasn't sure..."

"You weren't?" He wonders. "What about now?"

You clamp your lips and tilt your head. You open your mouth but can't find the words. You drop your shoulders.

"I don't know. I... I'm very lost right now." You look away.

He exhales. "I know it might not be very obvious, but I am too. I came all the way here and I was sure I was going to sit there alone all day. I kept checking your page thinking maybe you might delete and disappear with the money. Which is fine, that's fine. Your mom needs it but I just... the money is nothing to me." He sucks in air and laughs grimly. "New York is lonely. Being the boss, it's isolating. I didn't know what else to do and I... I just want something simple."

You listen, rolling around your thoughts on your tongue, poking your cheeks. You might be gullible but he sounds honest. Vulnerable even.

You hang your head and turn so that you're facing the open park path. You lean forward and wiggle your feet. "I just want my mom to be okay," you utter. "And if she isn't, then I don't want her to spend the time she has left like this."

He's quiet for a moment. You could wilt right then. All the stress crashes down on you and threatens to smother you.

"I can make sure that's not the case. I can help you keep her comfortable," he slides his hand across the stone and touches yours. "And you don't have to tell her about me."

"Yeah, she doesn't need to worry about me," you push yourself straight. You look him in the face. "I think we could try."

[kotoku]

Hiii~

Can I request aventurine and Dr ratio (separately or together ur choice) with klee reader

Maybe Sunday too?

I just want chaos to unfold-

Take care ☺️

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ, ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀ ʀᴀᴛɪᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ᴋʟᴇᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

pairings - sunday & klee! reader / aventurine & klee! reader / dr ratio & klee! reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ klee! reader/ platonic relationships/ familial relationships/ chaos

warnings - a bit of angst (?), might be ooc i'm sorry guys T_T

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ Whether you met Sunday because you’ve been unknowingly stirring up trouble in the dreamscapes or you met him by chance, he’d be a bit worried and concerned about a child roaming alone in Penacony

↺ He may or may not slowly adopt you into his routine as he always finds himself being greeted by you on the streets of Penacony (or called by a family member because mayhem has been occurring in certain parts of the dreamscapes)

↺ Gazing upon the damage you had done in the dreamscape as you stared at him with wide innocent eyes, he couldn’t be upset with you but rather surprised by how much power this unknown child has

↻ Sunday would be a lot like Jean, but he’d be a little more lenient when it comes to you

↺ He’d probably have a small area/room that’s your designated play area whenever you’re with him and sometimes he’d have to give you a time-out for blowing up something in the dreamscape

↺ Said time out wouldn’t last long as he’d feel guilty looking at your saddened state

↻ Sometimes whenever the other family members had a meeting with Sunday, they would see you playing around with your favorite stuffed animal but wouldn’t dare question your presence (you had quite the reputation for being.. explosive…)

↻ I think when it comes to each character with a Klee! Reader, they’d have those animal backpacks with the leash attached to it just because you’re so chaotic

↺ One moment they would be walking with you and then the next you’ve run off to somewhere that caught your attention

↺ For Sunday’s mental well-being, he got you this backpack to help him keep an eye on you whenever you were distracted

↻ As I mentioned in previous posts, Sunday, whenever he’s anxious or worried for you, would pace around his office with his feathers just puffing up and some of them popping right off due to his stress

↺ When you are found safe and sound, he’d give you a tight hug and you’d start playing with the feathers that were scattered on the ground

↺ He’s.. amused by it

↻ Honestly, Sunday had no idea what to do with you as you were found to be alone and it didn’t seem like you knew any of your family members (Just going to ignore Albedo and Klee’s mother for my sake…)

↺ Eventually, he warmed up to you a lot and considers you his little sister, which Robin also adores having around

↻ Sunday would be very protective of you but a little.. nervous about your abilities, he knew to an extent you were capable of handling things yourself

↺ But you are still a child so he’s extra cautious about the dangers in the dreamscapes and makes sure that you don’t get into trouble

↺ Otherwise, he’d have to confiscate your bombs.. which he really didn’t want to do because then you’d be super upset

↺ He tried to confiscate them one time but that ended up with you ignoring him for the remainder of the day and you were sulking in your playroom

↻ Sunday, during the Charmony Festival, would keep a very close eye on you because of what has been going on within Penacony

↺ He’ll keep you in his line of sight at all times, whether it’s him personally accompanying you around or having you sit near him in his conference room, he wouldn’t want you wandering too far off

↺ You’d find Sunday mumbling to himself while looking at some documents, but you never really understood them so you always stuck to what you were doing

↻ Sunday is very fond of you, and he’d do anything to ensure your safety

-----

Sunday was seated at his conference table, hand holding his chin in thought as he scanned through the multitude of documents. He carefully looked them over and over again, thoroughly reading through the letters written by a family member he assigned an assignment to. 

With the Charmony Festival coming in full swing, Sunday wanted to make sure that things would run as smoothly as possible, despite the growing concern that was nagging him from the depths of his consciousness. He couldn’t afford to become distracted…

That is what he thought, but yet he still found himself engaging in your little antics. Although things were growing busier and busier by the day, he wanted to ensure that you were alright and safe, playing a couple of your games when you pleaded for him to stay. He didn’t find the idea of playing with bombs safe, but if it was what made you happy, then your wish was his command.

As he stood up to roam the halls of his mansion, he gazed out into the open through the grand windows, a million thoughts racing through his mind. The future of Penacony contained countless outcomes and he could only grow restless every time he thought of it. But having you around to distract him from his worries with your silly antics, even if for just a fleeting moment, made him feel as if everything was going to be alright…

He would make sure of that.

-----

↻ Aventurine would also find your chaotic nature interesting, in fact, he might even indulge in it by taking a role in your little schemes

↺ He’d be a little concerned when you go a bit too far with your bombs and antics, so he’d try nudging you into a not-so-concerning situation

↻ Aventurine would find you when you got into a little scuffle with his subordinates, somehow destroying some IPC property and getting an earful from his coworkers

↺ Those IPC grunts would be terrified of you if they saw what you could do, especially because you’re a CHILD playing with BOMBS (They’re seriously concerned about who raised you and why you are the way you are.. or how you even managed to have bombs on you??)

↻ He’d send them off to go do something else (or to go bother someone else..) and bend down to your level to ask about your guardians or caregiver

↺ When you are confused about what he is talking about, his concern would only grow before he’d take you to find a trusted person to watch over you as he was busy with an assignment

↺ However, he would only come back to find that you escaped a worker’s watchful gaze and were playing with that bomb toy you had on you (Docodo? Cododo?? Whatever you said its name was…)

↻ When Aventurine hangs around you a little more during his free time (whether he’s done with work or doesn’t feel up to gambling), inquiring about the little fella you had on you and about your background

↺ He’d kind of take you under his wing from there on out, having you accompany him on missions if he determined they weren’t dangerous and were minor assignments

↺ Topaz would find it surprising seeing him around with a little kid, she’d even be wary about his intentions with you as he had suddenly popped up with a small kid out of nowhere

↺ She’d introduce you to Numby who, to your delight, would play and spend a bit of time with you

↻ Sometimes you’d accompany Aventurine on his casino trips, but he’d try leaving you out of them as it wasn’t really a kid-friendly setting

↺ So sometimes you’d in up in a more appropriate setting like a small daycare where you were safe (yet you’d sometimes pop up next to him in a game and catch him off guard)

↻ Aventurine, as someone with a lot of money to freely spend, would spoil you with a variety of things that he’d think you would like

↺ You aren’t necessarily a spoiled child, but he’d still get you the things that have caught your interest, whether you voice what you liked or not

↻ When he passes by a shop that has a showcase of kid backpacks, he would see one with a plush animal and a leash and he’d automatically get it for you 

↺ You wouldn’t really care about the leash part as you’re too distracted by the cute plush animal backpack, so it really was no problem for Aventurine

↺ He’d be walking around the IPC’s headquarters or Penacony with the backpack leash in his hand, you following him yet straying whenever you saw something

↺ He’d have to give the leash a small tug to make sure you weren’t wandering too far off though

↻ If you did something dangerous such as blowing up something that belongs to the IPC, Aventurine would vouch for you, becoming your partner in crime (Him sending a sly wink your way as you giggle innocently, hands covering your mouth to stifle your laughter) 

↺ Topaz would be the one scolding you before Aventurine tries defending your honor, but then he’d end up getting scolded by her too

↻ Aventurine would try his best to protect your innocence, not wanting you to see the dangers that linger on the different worlds he ends up on or what may invade the IPC’s headquarters

↺ He’s seen and witnessed firsthand hand of losing his innocence at a young age, those memories of his past still haunt him to this day and he doesn’t want you living with the same burden so he tries his best to protect you from danger (even if you’re somewhat capable of protecting yourself)

-----

“_____, did you destroy a piece of the IPC’s belongings again!?” Topaz asked, a stern look on her face as you stood there innocently with your hands tucked behind your back. 

“No… I didn’t do anything I swear! You can even ask Dodoco!” You answered, shoving Dodoco out in front of you as if to emphasize your statement. Topaz sighed, shaking her head.

“_____… I know you want to play around but sometimes you need to be careful of where you are. You could get hurt or, well.. damage things that aren’t yours.” Crossing her arms, Topaz looked at you with a softer gaze. You persisted in your stance. 

“But I swear! I didn’t do it!” You cried out, holding Dodoco closer to your chest. “Y-you can even ask Mr. Aventurine!”

“I heard my name?” Aventurine slinked to the spot right next to you, giving Topaz a questioning yet sly look. Topaz couldn’t help but groan when he popped up next to you, feeling as if she was on the verge of being teamed up against. 

“Mr. Aventurine! Please tell Miss Topaz that I wasn’t the one who blew up some of the IPC’s equipment!” You begged, tugging at his coat as he looked down at you with his cat-like eyes. 

He gave you a closed-eyed smile, patting the top of your head. “Is that what’s going on? Well, I have unfortunate news for you Topaz, as little _____ here was busy helping me out with an assignment.” Aventurine had a smug smile on his face as if to tease Topaz and tick her off, which worked.

Topaz, rolling her eyes, heaved a deep sigh. “Fine, I believe you, _____. You can go run off and play now.” 

With a joyful smile on your face and a cheer, you thanked Topaz before turning to thank Aventurine, bowing slightly with a quiet giggle.

“Thank you Mr. Aventurine! Promise we’ll play next time?” 

“I promise, _____. Now go play with Dodoco in your room, okay? I’ll check up on you later when I’m done with work.” 

“Okay!” 

-----

↻ Dr Ratio wasn’t necessarily fond of children…

↺ He understood that they weren’t the brightest of stars, but he could barely handle some of the behaviors they exhibited

↺ I imagine he’d be so disgusted because of how kids can be known for doing the weirdest stuff… (Picking their boogers, touching a variety of items, being unsanitary... the list goes on)

↻ When he meets you for the first time, he’s curious about the construction of your bombs and how you were able to make them

↺ To his disappointment, you are only able to draw crude drawings of the construction of your bombs and poorly explain how you built them

↺ He takes it upon himself to sample one of your bombs to see what they’re made of and how they’re made

↻ You’d invite him (more like drag him) to help you create and play with your bombs and he’d reluctantly follow you to where your room is

↺ Aventurine walking in on you playing dolls (or your bombs) with Ratio

-----

“How are you doing?”

“Mister Ratio, say it in your girl voice.”

“Sigh… How you doin’? 💅”

*Aventurine laughing before Ratio throws the doll he’s holding at him*

-----

↻ Ratio, knowing him, would tutor you if you went to a daycare or school, helping you understand your homework and teaching you about different subjects

↺ You wouldn’t comprehend half the things he’s teaching you but you follow along anyway

↺ Ratio would be genuinely happy if you were able to learn something new from him and apply it to your life

↻ Ratio is the type of teacher figure to give you random quizzes to test your knowledge and understanding but he rewards you with things like snacks or trinkets he gets from his trips

↻ Ratio would be delighted to talk about his trips to you, explaining the history and geography of the planets he has traveled to you when he comes back

↺ He would draw a small map for you to understand the general location of the places he’s visited

↻ You’d be excited to learn about what places he’s seen and you’d ask him a myriad of questions to which he’d patiently listen and answer 

↺ The thought of Ratio being patient with a young child warms my heart, this is how he’d find out that maybe he can tolerate specific kids

↻ Ratio reading stories to you to help you fall asleep, but those stories would probably be academic books he uses to teach his students

↻ If you were to get in trouble for blowing something up, he’d show his disappointment and sternly give you a punishment that isn’t too harsh on you (he’d give you school work lol)

↺ Ratio would check in on you here and there when you’re in your room, if he finds that you’re asleep he’d tuck you in before looking over your work

↺ This makes me think of Ratio walking in to see that you had drawn him an artwork of the both of you with Dodoco (who he came to know as your prized friend)

↻ Ratio doesn’t have a clue who your parents or guardians are, so he tries to locate them at first to no avail (he ends up pretty much adopting you as his own kid)

↻ Sometimes you’d sit near his desk in his lecture hall when he was teaching his students, swinging your legs back and forth as you eyed everyone in the room

↺ His students find you adorable and get distracted by your presence at first before their professor sends them a chalk their way

↺ His students give you little gifts or snacks as they leave the room, a part of them hoping that Ratio’s rampage on his grade book will be softened by your happiness at the gifts you received

↺ He finds out what his students are doing, but lets them do it anyway since it’s making you happy (he’d probably set some limits though before you get way too much stuff)

-----

Veritas had just finished up his lecture with his students, organizing their work into neat stacks on one side of his desk. Once the last student had left his classroom, he took off his plaster head and sat it in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he saw a small empty chair to the left of his desk. It was where you normally sat. 

The violet-haired man was then reminded of your absence due to the sudden sickness you had caught the day before. With a sigh, he turned back towards the ungraded stacks of paper on his desk and got to work. He’d try to be home before midnight. 

…..

By the time he finished, it was already 9. Walking out of the campus, he was met with the emptiness the night brought with it. Students were already long gone, the handful of teachers that had stayed late already packed up and left for dinner, but he was running a bit late. So with a brisk pace, he set off in the direction of his home, the cool night air hitting his skin.

Once Veritas reached his destination, he quickly unlocked the door and went inside, the warmth of his home greeting him. His shoulders fell, the weight that had been put upon himself leaving his body as he could see a faint light coming from your room. 

Slipping off his outerwear, he quietly walked across the hardwood floors and stopped outside of your bedroom door. Veritas listened for any signs that you might be awake, but nothing. He placed his hand on the door and gently pushed it open so he was able to enter. 

You had left your bedside lamp on, with a couple of papers and crayons scattered across the desk you normally drew at. His eyes had landed on your small, curled-up form, snoring away beneath the comforters of your bed. He softly chuckled to himself, walking towards your bed and lifting the blanket so it reached your shoulders. You had stirred but only shuffled to get comfortable. Placing a small kiss on your forehead, Veritas got up to put away the crayons and papers you had left out.

While picking up and putting away the crayons in the correct order that was directed on the box, the bright, grainy colors on a paper caught his eye. He gently picked up a piece of paper that you seemed to have been working on while he was gone. It was a drawing of the both of you in a field of flowers, your best friend, Dodoco, in between the both of you. Veritas had to admit that it was cute, a small smile appearing on his face before he gathered the rest of your drawings and slid them into a folder. 

When he had finished making sure that everything was neatly put away, Veritas moved to turn off the lamp, wishing you sweet dreams. 

-----

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hey ya'll.. nice weather we've got here... 😀 i really need to blast through my requests-- wearesobackipromise.

[darkmuffinstudios]

headcanons 2 electric boogaloo part 103 because i'm still not normal

(The first post cut me off in character limit, so here's the continuation :3)

(These can be general headcanons, found family, queer platonic, or poly if you want to interpret them in any way ^^)

There's couch that can fit then entire gang on it that everyone likes to sit at. Dust dislikes anyone taking his spot, Killer constantly keeps changing spots, Cross always picks his spot last, Horror sits on the floor, and Nightmare sits in a arm chair off to the side.

Killer forces all of the gang to watch movies every so often, typically when things become stale around the castle. The rest all act like they hate it, but Horror still makes popcorn, Dust collects all the blankets, and Cross helps set up the TV.

During the winter, the gang all huddle up in Nightmare's room for a large sleepover. The castle can be big and chilly.

Nightmare used to keep a moderate distance between his subordinates and himself. However, the first time Killer ended up in the infirmary changed that. It was only the two of them, and Nightmare realized the fragility of mortals that day.

Nightmare is a worrier for several reasons.

Nightmare mixes and matches his team in groups of 2, rarely sending any one of his men on solo missions (unless absolutely necessary). Safety in numbers.

Horror's love language is giving gifts and acts of service. He feels conflicted receiving it back, preferring touch instead.

Same with the last point, Horror is a cuddle bug- to Killer's delight.

Dust can't sleep in one, continuous stretch. This results with him taking 2-3 hour power naps at varying times throughout the day.

Horror snores in his sleep. Not loudly, but kind of like a soft rumble with each breath.

Dust likes Horror's snoring. It's therapeutic.

Killer sleeps like a corpse. Still and silent- which is strange when juxtaposed by his usual, lively demeanor.

Cross is an early riser and late sleeper. His circadian rhythm is exact, and runs like clockwork.

We're not going to talk about Killer's sleep schedule. He knows its bad. No one can fix it.

When Cross first joined, he felt extremely guilty for his chocolate cravings. After a while and some encouragement from the others, he finds himself indulging himself (at least in this one regard).

Cross loves sweets, not just chocolate. Chocolate just happens to be one of his favorite things/flavors though.

Cross keeps a mini snack stash in his pocket at all times. On missions, out and about, in his room, training, etc. You can look over at him and see him pop a chocolate kiss in his mouth. His one guilty pleasure.

Nightmare and Dust enjoy their fair share of alcoholic drinks. Nightmare has quite the collection- ranging from various years of quality, make, and base. Of course, they are all expensive.

Horror and Cross are indifferent to alcohol. They may indulge in it when there is a special occasion, but otherwise they don't go out of their way.

Killer is the only one that does not enjoy alcohol. If you see him drinking, leave him be. Bro is probably going through it.

Dust sometimes wears glasses to read. Depends on if he cares to put them on or not.

Out of the group, Cross is the designated driver. Nightmare not only doesn't know how to, but also doesn't have full peripheral vision. Horror and Dust would get stressed out/overstimulated on the road.

Killer is the backup driver, but there is a 80% chance of the car crashing at the end. Despite this, he's one hell of a getaway driver.

Horror likes to spend time out in the garden.

Killer is the only one which has explored every room/inch in the castle. He sometimes uses secret passages to scare the others, or cut his walking time in half.

Cross has a nervous habit of fidgeting with his heart locket.

Dust has claustrophobia. Small spaces, large crowds, feeling trapped? He'll come out swinging.

Everyone knows this and always is careful to make sure Dust has an easy out whenever they nap together.

Nightmare is always the one to attend to any of their wounds when they get hurt on missions. He fusses and lectures and rants the whole time he's bandaging them up, mending broken bones, treating illnesses. Everyone knows its because he cares.

Dust get sick the easiest. Because his own magic is trying to boil him alive from the inside out sometimes.

Killer is the least likely to get sick.

Nightmare can't get sick.

Okay, well, Nightmare can, but it would have to be like. the plague to end all plagues.

Nightmare doesn't let any of the boys buy apples.

The only times Horror wears his hood over his head is if its raining/snowing. His head gets itchy if he wears it up for too long.

Killer has a knife on him at all times. You can pat this man down, take off a couple of knives, and he can still shank you afterwards.

All of them, to some extent, have trust issues. They learn to trust each other over time, though.

Nightmare hangs up pictures of his boys up in his office. He even frames them.

Nightmare has a secret picture tucked in a drawer in his desk. It's a drawing that Dream had made for him (a crude drawing of the both of them in a field of flowers), one he had safely folded and tucked into his favorite book as a child.

After the whole apple fiasco, the book barely survived (the picture along with it) and Nightmare rereads it whenever he's feeling sentimental.

Killer is extremely nosy. If he can't get what he wants by asking/prodding, he'll snoop. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back and all.

I don't remember if I mentioned this in the other post, but Nightmare's bed is HUGE. Like King Deluxe plus plus. It also has those fancy canopy, curtain things that can close around the bed.

Killer's bed doesn't have a bedframe, just a mattress.

Dust's bed is circular and decently big. It also has that drape canopy that can cover it, as well as a shit ton of pillows.

Horror gets cold easily.

Nightmare makes sure Horror gets enough blankets during particular cold nights. Maybe a heater too.

Killer has a bad habit of sleeping in other people's rooms. He just barges in and makes himself at home. Over time, the others have let him get away with it.

Lots of mirrors in the castle were taken down after Dust shattered the first few.

That doesn't stop Killer from having a full body one in his room though.

Cross has a favorite training dummy.

Horror names his weapons and kitchen tools. He tends to keep that to himself.

Killer, weirdly enough, knows how to repair clothes. Hole in your jacket? He can stitch it back fairly neatly.

Dust has ripped quite a few sets of clothes in his days. He's gotten used to shrugging them off and dumping them on Killer.

Killer always returns Dust's stuff with a little chocolate inside the pocket/with it (probably stolen from Cross's stash).

When Horror gets anxious, he starts to pick at the crack in his head. To stop this habit, he just sits on his hands.

Nightmare thinks its a little amusing that Horror sits on his hands. Hey, if it works for Horror, then that's all the king needs.

Whenever Nightmare needs to run errands, he always brings Cross with him and lets Killer hold down the fort in his absence.

Cross works hard with Nightmare every year to ensure that their realm can't be found by anyone else. Encrypting code, manipulating magic, etc. While this is an annual thing that they do, Cross checks up on the state of it every month diligently.

Nightmare and Killer like the ocean. They visit it sometimes.

Horror makes sure to create meals that are balanced, healthy, and to preference. Also likes to keep the fridge stocked up.

Cross and Dust sometimes play chess with each other.

The whole gang (minus Nightmare) love playing cards.

Uno cards are banned from the castle after Nightmare repaired the three large holes in his castle wall.

Horror puts all of his food scraps in a compost bin and recycles it into his garden.

Aaaaand that's the limit again.

Very silly to think about, but I might make a separate one concerning ships/bsp because my mind started to wander LMAOOOOO

Hope you enjoy these!

[creamecafe]

Fate by "Design" | Salesman x Artist!Fem!Reader

Summary: While doing art in a subway, the Salesman offers you to play Ddakji, a chance to win money. But you wanted his number. When you win, your acquaintance with the salesman becomes much more.

Pairing: Salesman x Artist!Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, flirting, allusions to smut/sex, but not explicit

Word Count: 2.9k

Author's Note: This was requested by Crazy4herluv on my Wattpad book Squid Game Imagines/One-Shots. This is also my first Salesman work, so I hope you enjoy!

*Icon used for this header above that I made in PicsArt is from Pinterest. Divider is from @cafekitsune in this post*

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

The sounds of the almost isolated subway and people walking is the highlight of your daily routine. You had moved to Korea to work for a art company and you do sketches by hand.

It paid very good money but in your free time you liked to be in the subway and do art for others like New York. People would walk and stop to see what you possibly could be doing.

A lot of the time, couples, parents with their kids or even old people would ask for a drawing each day and you get paid at least $130-200 at the end of the day.

Your art simply consisted of charcoal sketches of the person who requested for the art as semi-realistic as possible with a watercolor splash in the back if they ask.

Sometimes you notice while you're drawing or sketching away looking for people to draw, you would see a man in a black suit.

He had black hair and was always carrying a suitcase with him. He was also very handsome, you thought. When you took the time to actually analyze him or look at him, not in a creepy way you thought, you noticed that he would throw something on the ground and slap people.

This guy must be insane, you thought. Slapping people everyday, but it didn't stop you wondering who he really was. You thought of going up to him and asking if he would like his own portrai. But you were nervous of asking such a good looking guy and you are an artist in the subway, so he was way out of your league.

Today felt like any other day. Until one person, the guy in the black suit came up to you. You were going to pack up for the day when you accidentally dropped pencils and other supplies on the floor, then rolled around. As you were on the ground picking up the supplies, you saw polished black shoes stop and turn in front of you.

You look up and see him. The guy in the black suit looks down at you while you're trying to pick up your stuff.

"Good evening ma'am. I have a question for you."

You got up from the floor and brushed off the germs from yourself from the subway ground.

"Hello sir. I finished my hours for the day drawing so I can't accept any art requests right now I'm sorry. You could always come back tomorrow if you like."

"I'm not asking for a drawing. I'm asking if you would like to play a game."

A game? Is this guy Billy the puppet you thought?"

"What game?" You asked?

"It's called Ddakji. Have you heard of it before?"

Ddakji. It should sound familiar but you felt like you don't know it.

"I don't think so. What is it?"

"It's very simple. You fold two pieces of paper, usually of bright colors as it's a children's game like an envelope and the goal is to throw down the paper as hard as you can so the other person's paper flips over."

"What's the point of playing the game?"

"If you win, I'll give you money. A hundred thousand won."

Your eyes widened at what he said. A hundred thousand won? That amount of money to get while doing art in a subway could take a year or two. Yet here's this handsome well kept money offering to you.

"And if I lose?"

"Well usually I slap people until they win or just give up." That explains why you see this man in the subway grounds slapping people and throwing stuff down.

"But seeing how creative you are. How about a portrait of me? Use all your creativity and imagination you can and give me something."

"Ok. I'll play. But I can change something?"

"What is it?" He turns his head to express curiosity. It's rare that people would ask for a change of things while playing, conducting he's the one in charge.

"If I win, I get to have your number."

The salesman is surprised at your boldness to ask him out.

"My number? You could walk out with a hundred thousand won. What could my number offer to you?"

"Well I might see a better prize than money. I see a real piece of art right here." You raised your eyebrow smirking

He smirks at you. This was going to be interesting he thought.

"We have an agreement then?"

You nodded. "I lose, you get a portrait. But if I win..."

"You get my number." The salesman nods smiling. "Five in a row you have to win." He then pulls out two colored orgami tiles of red and blue from his suit jacket.

"What color would you like?"

"Red/blue" you said.

"Alright then. Ladies first."

You look at him and then the ground. 10 in a row you can do this. You took a deep breath and slammed the envelope on the ground. The guy then slams his envelope on the ground flipping yours around.

It created a loud slapping sound and echoed that it startled you. You look up scared he was lying to his word and might actually slap you. You close your eyes and prepare for it.

"What are you doing?" The salesman asks

"Aren't you going to slap me?"

"You don't have to worry. I wouldn't slap a pretty face like yours. I only want a drawing."

Opening your eyes you took a deep breath. At least you wouldn't be slapped.

"1-0" The guys says. You assumed that was his keeping score

You pick up your envelope and roll up your sleeve. You threw it down but it didn't flip the salesmans. He picked his up and slammed it down flipping yours again.

"2-0". Now the chances of getting this guys number seems low and you might look like a fool. You were weren't to give up just yet. You relied on your skills of carrying an easel and so many supplies per day to the game.

Taking a deep breath, you slam down the card and it flipped the guys. You were smiled wanting to jump for joy.

"2-1" You put up 2 fingers with one hand and 1 finger to the guys face.

He said nothing but smirked. Talking wasn't his thing, you noticed. Probably why you found him attractive.

The salesman picks up his card and slams it and your flips over. It was a continuous picking up and flipping cards. You were getting better as the points were getting higher.

Now the score was "7-8". You were becoming tired and kinda wish you were home right now, sleeping. But

The salesman threw down his card and flipped yours. Now it was 8-8. A tie. Just two more and you get his number. You threw yours down and it flipped over. 8-9. Another slam from the guy and it was 9-9.

This was it. You weren't sure you would have enough energy to draw that portrait of his that he wanted. But you needed enough energy to finish this game.

You slammed it down and saw it flipped over. I won, you thought to yourself. Did I actually win? You thought.

"Congratulations. You won ma'am." The salesman smiled.

Those words felt unreal. "Yes! Yes!" You jumped around happy.

"Now, you asked for my number. I suppose you wouldn't have a piece of paper to write down my number, would you?"

What kind of question was that? You were a artist. Blank papers is all you carry. You grab your sketchbook from your bag and a pen to give to him.

He took it from your hands and wrote down his number fast. He gave it back to you and you saw it.

"What do you plan to do with that number, Miss?"

"I was wondering maybe you want to go out?"

"We can do that. Can I pick the place?"

It was the least you could let him do as he offered you money and kept true to his word to give you his money.

"Sure. I'll text you when I'm available. I might see you here too. Who knows?"

He nodded your response smiling.

"You have a good day madam"

"You too" God how you loved how formal he was and calling you madam and ma'am, even though you weren't really that old.

When you went home, you were exhausted but still smiling and excited that you got the guy's number. You texted your name so he could have yours saved as well. You went to bed, wondering what it could lead to. Possibly just one date or even more.

The next day, was the same thing. Wake up, eat breakfast, pack your things and head to the subway. You kept fixing yourself up for the salesman, wondering if he would come by.

He always comes by, you thought. He just has to. You scanned around the subway to see where he is as you didn't want to move your spot. After an hour had passed, it looked like he hadn't been around.

Maybe asking for his number was a bad idea, that he was avoiding to talk to you, you thought. A man walked by and dropped something not that far from you. It looked like money. Seeing this you get up, pick up the bill and try to call out for the man. But it looked like he was already gone. It was

Written in a black permanent marker, it says “Look at your phone ma’am”. Without thinking you check your phone and see a message. Meet me at the park at 4:30 PM. No need to dress so fancy but wear something you feel pretty in.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you couldn’t believe what’s in front of you, more likely what’s on your phone. He’s actually texting you. The weird quiet but handsome black suit guy is texting you. You packed your things and went home and went to get ready to meet him in the park.

It was nothing special that you wore. Just a simple sundress/pantsuit but it was still one of the nicest outfits you had in your wardrobe. You kept wondering just what the man in plan for you. Walking around the park, you see the man still in his suit, hands in front looking around, possibly waiting for you, you thought.

Smiling, you walk up to him. When he sees you, he smiles with no teeth but still showing joy. He reaches out a hand. Looking at it hesitantly, you took his hand. The salesman then took your hand, bowed a little and kissed the back of your hand gently. You felt your heart skipped a beat when he did that.

“Hello ma’am. We meet again.”

“Hi. Were you the person that gave me the bill?”

“Maybe, a beautiful woman like you deserves more.”

Was this a dream? Were you dreaming or is this real. This man seemed to good to be true. You two walked to what would be your first date. The place he picked out for the first date was an art museum. It displayed the finest arts across the worlds and many different paintings. The salesman would ask about each piece and how did it make you feel. You responded to many of his questions but kept looking around. You guys kept talking and asking each other questions to get more acquainted with each other.

After the museum, he took you a some place to eat. Then you guys went to get ice cream. He paid for everything and asked if there’s anywhere else you would like to go. If you tried to pull out your card or even cash to pay for your own things, he would refuse so and said he got everything and that anything you wanted he’ll get for you. It had been late, so he dropped you off home and asked how was everything and if you enjoyed it.

You couldn’t thank him enough for the wonderful day you had comparison to just drawing in a subway for hours. Before you left his car, there was a slight tension between you guys that it could be cut with a knife. The man wanted to say something else but couldn’t stop looking at your lips. Looking at him, you see his hands reach towards your face and cup it as his lips softly touches yours.

His lips were so baby smooth and his cologne was so sharp from his neck, it felt like a gas hyptonixjg you. You cup his face, grazing it with your thumb. He pulls away, still looking at you with such yearning. Your thumb still on his face grazed his lips as you said goodbye and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Ever since that night, you two have been dating. He would take you on dates to other places. Mostly just walks in the park or art related stuff that you like. Your small kisses would turn into small makeouts into something more. He would sometimes, well mostly go over to your place and sleep over. In the mornings he would make breakfast in his underwear. You wish you could draw him right then and there.

He loves to pose for your art or whatever reference you need for your assignment in class. Once a month, he'll take you out to the art store to get whatever supplies you need. Your messy clothing consisted of paint or oil pastel stains is opposite of his clean, ironed and steamed suit. But he loves it either way.

The only time that he was out of the suit was when he was in bed with you. But other than that, you wanted him to be a bit more fun. You wanted to him have more color. Seeing those videos of online of couples doing painting of each others to see both of your art skills.

You begged the salesman to do wit you and he finally agrees. Squealing you get everything ready, canvas, paints, brushes, water and paper towels. You had 10 minutes to try to get each other’s features as accurate as possible

Time passes and both of you guys are done. You show your art of him and it’s him in his suit, pretty accurate and semi realistic but some details were missing. He nods and says it’s impressive of how much you can get done in less than hour.

You ask for his painting and he turns his Canva around and you see you in an almost renaissance like painting. Your mouth dropped and all felt like years of your art skills go away to just 10 minutes.

“What! How’s that even possible? Why didn’t you tell me you were good at art?”

“Well two people can’t be the artists in a relationship. One has to be a muse, to inspire the other.”

You scoffed at his bullshit. He just didn’t want to brag. An idea came in your mind. You grab a paintbrush and leave a stroke of red paint on his face.

“If you want to be a muse, why don’t you have some color on you?”

Smirking, the salesman takes this as a challenge and grabs his paint brush and paints across your face too.

Now you guys were having a paint battle. You tried to paint him more but he lightly grabs your arm and stops you. He leads you the floor, where he’s now on top of you. Seeing this as an opportunity, you grab a bottle of paint that’s open and smeared on his white shirt. He laughs at this and rolls you over where you’re now on top of him, straddling him.

Nothing was said between you both as you kept looking at each other. Like that night of your first date when you guys first kissed. Putting your head down you kiss him and he put his arms around on your back. The paint on your guys’ face mixed with each other. Breath was running out so you decided to stop. Your heart was beating so much just as he was trying to catch his breath too.

Now you’re forever grateful you asked for his number then taking the money. It’s a better reward than what the salesman had to offer you, as you got him, yourself. It felt like a dream come true. Even if it was, you didn’t want to wake up. Everything of being with him was like straight art. Maybe it was meant to be. That day you accidentally dropped your pencils and he came up to you. It could be called fate by others. Fate by design you like to call it.

He was right, one has to be the muse in a relationship and the other an artist. But to him, it was the thing he was missing the most. An new reason to be in the subway that fateful day.

Taglist:

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[xo-adeline]

"Inked forever..."

⋆°• ☁︎ - Tattoo artist!Kaiser Feat. Michael Kaiser AN: I just love the idea of Tattoo artist Kaiser... so accept this as my brain rot (Also very heavily basing this off when I got my tattoo, and my tattoo, I'm sorry!!!) (Why did I actually kinda cook with this...)

The sound of machines whirring and the constant looking into the other area of the people getting tattooed made you question so much. Would it hurt? Well duh. Should you really be doing this? What would people think of you if you did? The thoughts started vanishing when you were finally called up to the front desk as they showed you the paper with the design on it. Normally the artist would do it, but since he was busy preparing and finishing up something else he wasn’t able to. But when you finally saw it, the drawing was stunning. It had taken inspiration from the piece of art you had found when scrolling the internet and made it that much better. The way the vines wrapped around, and the way the roses were a little bigger but still had an elegant look to them. It was even better than the picture. It was perfect. With a happy nod they took the paper back to the artist and told you he’d be done soon.

It was about 10 more minutes when the person he was just working on had paid and left, and all there was left was a few more minutes until you had actually seen the artist and he was able to permanently draw on you. Now that you were thinking about it, it kinda sounded weird. Letting a total stranger draw on you, and you have to keep that drawing forever? I mean you didn’t even know him, how was that supposed to work? Which brought you back to thinking about how you had even stumbled upon him.

The many pictures of tattoos had faded into your feeds, weather it was adds, or just scrolling on pintrest, instagram, and hell even tiktok! There was no escaping tattoo ideas. Well that was until you found this one page on instagram. Countless pictures had flooded your view all of them even more impressive then the last, weather it was flowers, humans, characters, even just little designs, they were flawless. Maybe it was just feeding into the idea more and more when you kept seeing more of his work pop up day after day. After the 2nd week of the art popping up you decided that maybe this was the universe telling you it was a good idea and you should just suck it up, and get that tattoo you’ve always been wanting. So you reached out to the artist via the email in the instagram bio, and within a few weeks there you were sitting in the tattoo parlor waiting for this man to call you back.

That was one of the only things however you didn’t see. Sitting in the waiting area of the tattoo place made you think about a lot of strange things. Maybe it was the nerve, maybe it was just because you were waiting for the pain to hit. But one thing you did know for sure, was you had never actually seen him before. All his posts online were about his tattoo works, weather it was on people, a screen, or on paper. He had never once actually posted what he looked like. You could only assume it was a guy due to his name, or at least the name on the email. Michael Kaiser. Pretty cool name if you did say so. But still, you were walking into this blind with a random dude you had never seen before. Luckily if you needed to run, there were other employee’s around…

After you had worried yourself down a rabbit hole a voice called out to you.

“(Name). Right? Kaiser.”

When you turned over your shoulder, being snapped out of your spiral there he was. The Michael Kaiser, that you now knew was a guy, standing there, holding the tattoo stencil in his hand.

“Oh uh yeah! Sorry.”

“No worries. Nervous?”

He started walking back and gave a little nod of his head signaling you to follow

“A little..”

The guy brought you back to one of the chairs, setting down the stencil on the desk next to him, a small grey table with a tattoo gun with grey wrapping around it, ink colors in little containers, and two cups, one with water and rubbing alcohol. Now that you were back there, everybody else getting something done seemed pretty chill, even if there was only 2 other people besides the artists. Nobody screaming, crying, or freaking out. I mean if nobody else was, why would you?

You got up in the chair as he sat down on the stool, looking down at the stencil, before giving a little smile. He turned around and placed it down on your ankle.

“That look good in terms of placement?”

He pointed back at a mirror and you went to check it out, seeing it was it a perfect spot you nodded on the way back, sitting back up in the chair as he started getting everything else ready. You looked away for a few minutes, seeing whatever was on the TV’s that you could perhaps look at when he was doing it so you wouldn’t feel weird staring directly at him as he worked.

“If you need a break, lemme know”

He gave a slight smirk when you turned back towards him

“Rough place for your first one.”

And then he started. At first it wasn’t to bad, a pinch here and there, but nothing you couldn’t handle, well that was until about an hour later he got to the back part of your ankle. You were grateful that you could burry you’re face into the chair at this point, because lord have mercy, did it hurt. He wasn’t kidding when he said it was a rough spot. Luckily during that you did get to have a break, heading over to pay before he finished it back up. Which was when you learned an interesting story. Apparently, due to the behind the counter people, he was actually supposed to take leave that day, and he had moved all his other appointments until you had emailed him asking about the blue rose tattoo, and that was when he had called back in saying he wasn’t actually taking leave anymore, and that they could move back appointments besides the one from when you were coming in. That’s when you remembered, on his neck, he also had a blue rose tattoo, and you finally thought about how it was weird that he had made a story post a little bit after you emailed him saying that he was gonna be out, and then suddenly he was totally open for that same day.

When you finally got back mostly everybody else had clearned out and it was just you and him, plus the people still at the front. Even if the pain was almost unbearable at this point you tried your best to keep it together and not cry, or let out any sort of noise. You knew that he was probably gonna be done soon and you just had to hold on until then, easy, right? You’ve been doing it this long.

And right you were. It was only about 20 more minutes until he finished, wiping down the rest of the color that was smeared across your ankle, before wrapping it up in a sheet of cling-wrap and some tape.

“Take it off in the morning, wash it off, and you should be good to go. Make sure to moisturize it for a few weeks until the peeling goes away and that’s it.”

He handed you a piece of paper with the same instructions, and just as you were about to leave you spoke back up.

“Hey um.. I saw on your instagram you were supposed to be off today…”

He looked back over from his station where he was cleaning up and wiping stuff down.

“Yeah. Was supposed to get out of town for a trip with some of my friends, no big deal.”

“Then why didn’t you..?”

“Because I wanted to do that tattoo of yours. Didn’t wanna let somebody else have it. Not often you see people coming in here asking for a blue rose tattoo.”

He shrugged, throwing some of papers away, before sitting back down on the stool.

“Plus, not every day a pretty girl slips into your email asking for a tattoo, and who am I to stay no?”

He gave a small laugh and a smirk took over his face.

“Hey, how about instead of your email I get your number, and maybe next time we talk it will be scheduling a time for a date and not a tattoo. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s fate we met, we already have matching tattoos~.”

A smile over took your face as you exchanged numbers with him, and in turn he walked you out. Right as you were about to get back in your car and head home, he walked over and kissed your cheek.

“You did well for your first tattoo, maybe you’re next one you’ll have my initials~”

[chow0w]

(Re)designing a winglet! - part 2/7

Welcome back blog readers, it's winglet Wednesday!

Today I'm going to be talking through my redesign of my old winglet's nightwing character, Startalon. For anyone new to this side-series, I'm going through a winglet I made YEARS ago as a kid and updating the designs to my standard - this series will release every Wednesday, with WoF canon character redesigns continuing as normal.

Today's victim - Startalon. Again, I don't remember a ton about this character, so I'm going purely off what I can see right now. He looks disturbed. Nervous. Helpless to intervene. It's as if he's stuck in someone's passenger seat and they keep getting more and more upset as the car speeds up. As I redo his headshot, I'm going to try and make it worse.

Wow! The expression changed slightly, but it's a lot more amplified now and he's got some additional detail to the scales/spines. I actually thought the original face shape was pretty good, so I tried not to change it too much - unlike my last redesign, which needed a lot of help to look anatomically correct. Old Startalon didn't have a big forehead, but there was some part of his face that seems to be exaugurated, which I liked a lot and wanted to transfer to this new design. I think it's his nosebridge.

My main idea for Startalon is that he's a nightwing with weak seer powers, gifting him visions of the future... but only the worst possible outcomes. Everywhere he goes, he's tormented by visions of the worst case scenario, with nothing to do about it and no way of telling if it will actually happen. He probably moves through life with a sense of caution and defeat, battling the pessimism that comes with seeing the bad in everything. Literally.

I can imagine his wingmates tend to ignore his prophecies: some may see them as annoying and disheartening, others take them as a valuable cautionary tale.

Here's the full sketchpage! Added a little doodle of his bad prophecies and a full body for reference. As always, thank you all so much for your support! I can't believe we're almost at 1000 followers! I'm thinking about what to do to celebrate and I have a poll attached to this post. If you made it this far, feel free to fill it out - or don't and leave it up to fate!

Later! ヾ(☆▽☆)

[parisoonic]

I just want to say I love how you do your lineart, it looks so good! ahhhhhhhh!!

I'm gathering a lot of advice about the topic of lineart and I just wanna know how you get it to look like that? My line weight is getting better but the drawing itself just comes out a bit.. weird.

Thank you so much! Lineart is probably the thing I've been working hardest on as I am not a lineartist (and still struggle a lot) but it's something I really need to get better at for my job. UM there's honestly so much that could be said on the topic of lineart. Big things for me are:

Weight -> Use line weight (aka thickness) to describe form, lighting, contact and scale. Thick lines imply shadow, contact and nearness-to-camera. Thin lines imply tension, recession and light.

Straights vs Curves -> Use straight lines against curved ones for maximum interest. This is partly a character design thing but as we're using lines to describe our characters it's worth mentioning :)

Complex vx Simple -> Use complex lines against simple. Faces are always complex so therefore the backs of heads should always be simple. Chests are quite complex so backs should be simple. Dorsal sides of the arms are complex (Delt, tricep, bicep) whilst the ventral side is more simple (tricep...mainly) etc.

'Think in Ink' -> Lower your sketch layer almost to 0% opacity so you're not getting hung up on how nice/energetic your sketch look and instead are approaching the piece from an ink mindset. BUT it's digital! So if there's something in your sketch that you like just bring it forward (copy and paste) into your ink layer. I sketch and ink with the same brush so I can use this workflow

'Confidence' -> small hesitant feathery lines will look nervous compared to big swooping lines. Less is always more. I'll redraw arms/limbs until I can get the appearance that it was done in one brush stroke. Again it's digital so you can erase to cheat this look : )

MISC 01: I always hear 'draw from the shoulder'........meh............it's digital so draw from your wrist...it's fine honestly. If we were working at A1 in a life drawing class then we could get some shoulder action going but most of us are hunched over 16inch tablets. I think this advice aims to pull people away from feathery-nervous lineart honestly which you can improve on without relearning how to draw from your shoulder.

MISC 02: For a 'smoother' look do your lineart at a larger canvas size than you need. Once I'm happy with a sketch I usually double the canvas size and do my lineart then.

MISC 03: In PS (at least) anti-aliasing goes funny at any zoom level that isn't in the 5 times table. So try not to look at your canvas when you're zoomed in to 87% or 71.39% or something crazy. Just stick to 25%, 50%, 75% and 100% if possible.

UNFORTUNATE TRUTH: Lineart is incredibly based on raw draughtmanship I've discovered. When you're working with colour you can hide a lot in rendering (shadows, highlights) or post-processing (depth of field) but in lineart all your mistakes are just...there for people to see. There's ways round this...which I use A LOT. 'Flourishes' (I use 'flourishes' to mean over-confident lineart where it veers particuarly thick or particuarly thin in contrast to your approach in the rest of the image) can sort of trick people into thinking you're more confident about an area than you actually are.

As well as leaving 'breathing room' within your lineart instead of actually...resolving the area. I do this the most around the face and hands.

Hopefully some of this helps? Honestly there's a lot of deep dives that could be done into indivudal things and there's also the massive caveat that all of these are 'guidelines' and not strict rules. I also favour a more...concept-arty? animation-y? storyboard-y? look to my lineart which favours flourishes and breathing room for a incomplete/work-in-progress feel which would make methodical colouring (ie: for a comic or something) a pain.

Keep up pratice is the main thing and doing studies of artists who you like that have great lineart - you'll pick up draughtmanship skills along with the lineart studies. Here's some of my lineart from a year or two ago...it varies between very 'standardised' (which makes it difficult to read volumes and to be honest, it's boring) and 'TOO EXCITING' (which...also makes it difficult to read volumes and for the eye to rest).

I'd like to share my brushes at some point as I've found 3 that I really like and use for everything more or less. I discovered that a shocking low amount of people use PS on tumblr (shocking to me I guess as i'm so used to PS being the standard) and everyone seems to use Procreate or Clip Studio Pro...so I want to check that the brushes are Procreate compatible at least before I share!

[greekceltic]

FAQ (Updated 2025)

She/her | 39 | I like cats and rain. My comic: https://catswaycomic.com/ My Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/greekceltic My Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/greekceltic Other links: https://linktr.ee/greekceltic Sorry in advance if you send me a message and I don't get back to you, I tend not to stress over messages/asks. I do try to read them though, and I'm always open to being asked questions about characters or my headworld/stories. I am already aware that my art is being copied. They're blocked. Please stop telling me about it. Rest of my FAQ is under the cut >

Can I repost your work? I don't mind as long as I'm credited. I'm less okay with my work being used as a pageviews grab, but it's probably not worth my time to care. If it's something I've selected to take down and don't have posted anymore, don't. If you can't find a place I have it posted, then default assume you shouldn't repost it. If it's something you commissioned, go for it. You don't need to credit me every time you share it. Once in a while is cool.

Are you okay with fanart? What about OC interactions? Can I post it? Sure, just don't profit off of it and please credit me. If you want to draw my OCs interacting with yours that's also fine (and fun!)- though I prefer situations where their actions make sense. Alf wouldn't make your character cry, for example. He's grumpy but not cruel. Posting it is fine. Is it okay if I take inspiration from your art and concepts? I've been in a situation in recent years where another artist has taken far, far too much. It's a subject I'm pretty burnt out on. I recently saw another artist's take on this and it looked sensible to me. I'm just going to quote theirs. I have tried to find my own words, but right now I find myself more comfortable using someone else's. "Well, if you’re having to ask me for permission, either your design is too similar or you’re being overly nervous about a normal artistic process. You’re absolutely free to use my work as a source of inspiration but I’d strongly encourage you to think about the details from my design you like most, and remix them with other concepts into your own unique take."

Taking inspiration is something everyone does, but please don't become a shadow I get bi-weekly alerts about. Ideally your pool of inspiration will be many artists and concepts re-imagined into something unique to you- and that you're being honest with yourself about the result. Honestly, if you're uncomfortable crediting your source, you already know what you're doing has gone too far.

Your art is being copied! / Will you tell me who the copy cat is? I get a lot of messages about this and am tired. I'm sure if my art ends up somewhere it shouldn't be or there's something really worth my attention I'll find out through friends. Otherwise, I'm just sayin' get a second or third opinion before coming to my inbox. I probably already know about it.

I sent you a message and you didn't respond. Sorry about that. I tend not to stress about messages because it can be a drain. You're more likely to get a response if you let me know from the get go what you want, but nothing is guaranteed. Sometimes I didn't see it, sometimes I got busy or forgot, sometimes I plan to do it later, sometimes I just opted out. It's not personal. Where do you Rp? Are you looking for more partners? Discord mostly. Roleplay consumes a lot of time so these days I mostly only play with my buddy Thema. I probably wouldn't have time to play, but I like to hang around people that do and I don't mind being asked. Just please don't be sad if I never get around to responding! I'm most compatible with people who are comfortable with radio silence.

Can I use your characters in roleplay/as roleplay refs? Considering I actively roleplay my OCs and there's a potential for confusion, I'd rather you didn't. Though I think there's a difference between linking to my art and saying 'this is my character', and linking to it to say 'this has the mood I'm going for, but here's what's different about my character--'. The latter is fine.

Can I make Fan OCs for your setting? Thinking about this makes me tired. Maybe I'll get to a point where I'm more comfortable later, but for now I'd rather you didn't make something directly from my worlds. But lets be real, you don't need my permission to draw cat monsters and I take a huge amount of inspiration from ancient history. Many of my concepts are inspired by things that you can read about and be inspired too. If you see something and are curious if there's a historical source, just ask. Hopefully I'll remember.

Do I have permission to draw NSFW art of your characters? No, for a plethora of reasons, some easy to explain and some not, but I probably can't stop you. Just don't profit off of it or show it to me. Accepting that I can't stop it doesn't change how I feel about it or that my answer is no. What about vore? If I haven't explicitly given you permission to do that, I'd rather you didn't go there. I always ask a creator for permission before I go there with their OC, I'd like the same respect.

Do you have a website for your OCs? I have RP pages for them scattered all over the place and many of them are outdated, but as I type this I recently put some up on Toyhouse. https://toyhou.se/GreekCeltic

Do you have a website for your comic? Sure do. It's an expensive fuck. https://catswaycomic.com/ When does your comic update? Sporadically. I work on it when I have time. My income is solely freelance commissions and Patreon- mostly commissions.

There's other places you could post your comic! Yeah, I know. I may do that someday, but for now I like having my own house, even if it's an expensive fuck. (Not really, the renewal just hits around tax time, Lol).

[thelettergii]

Surprise! I'm solo developing a game called Sugarplum Cafe - a merge crafting game where you run a dessert cafe and serve fashionable ladies inspired by sweets 🍰

I have opened my inbox again if you want to ask me anything about the game! Sugarplum Cafe is heavily inspired by fancy patisseries, tea parties, and frilly fashion - I feel like there are never enough more pastel shoujo aesthetic games out there, and I can only be the change I wish to see!

The game is still very early in development, but here are 3 ways you can support this game right now:

Keep following me on socials! I will still share updates here, but I would also love to see you over on Bluesky or Twitter if you have either!

Join my brand new mailing list! You'll get all the info I'd post on social media but you won't miss anything thanks to pesky algorithms.

Support my Patreon! Paid members can play an early version of Sugarplum Cafe right now! (PC only)

I'm a little nervous pivoting from fanart to an original project, but I made this game with the goal of designing lots of pretty ladies with cute clothes, so I hope it won't be that different than my usual art. I can't wait to show you all the characters!

I've always wanted to do more with my art than just post it online, so I'm really excited for you all to play this game. I hope you are too!!

[felassan]

Some more DA:TV and related snippets from Sylvia Feketekuty, Part 5. rest of post under a cut due to length and spoilers. [Post One, Post Two, Post Three, Post Four]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "I agree, the Necropolis IS gorgeous, I was blessed with wonderful level artists, lighting artists, and a fantastic LD who poured their hearts into making it it." [source]

Sylvia: ""But what does Manfred think about Spite?" Good question. Manfred is curious, as always, and can probably sense Spite's on his own plane of existence (in other words, another spirit.) But Manfred also doesn't have a greatly evolved sense of danger, he might not understand Spite's "moodier" moments. I also think Manfred isn't as sophisticated a spirit as Spite at the start of the game. (Though don't let Emmrich catch you saying that!)" [source, two]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "He was a team effort, and I have to especially thank the writers and editors for their early feedback that helped shape him. Emmrich wouldn't have worked as well otherwise." [source]

Sylvia: "it's a huge honour to work on a character who's someone's favorite anything, let alone romance. (Huge props to Allegra, her actor, who just got Josie right away.)" [source]

Sylvia: ""With Cassandra being our only POV into Nevarra" Poor Cassandra. (Emmrich has such respect for her uncle's books!) "There's a lot of deep respect and empathy for all the ways people relate with death and I appreciate it"" Thanks, that was something I'd so hoped would come through." [source]

Sylvia: "It really was a team that brought Emmrich, the Necropolis, and the rest of its guardians to life, I know everyone would be thrilled to know you enjoyed it so much." [source]

User: "Emmrich's fear of mortality really hit hard. Some of those lines are etched into my heart now. Thanks to everyone who helped put that deeply relatable and human experience into the game" // Sylvia: "It was kind of the core of Emmrich, writing the part where he opens up about his fears, so thank you for sharing that, it means a lot." [source]

Sylvia: "I loved writing the MW branches and letting people be a nerdier flavour of Rook with Emmrich." [source]

User: "Nevarra, Mourn Watch and in particular Emmrich's personal missions were amazing! The whimsical and the grotesque in perfect balance. When I replay next year I'll be looking forward to those missions the most!" // Sylvia: "Especial praise goes to the level designers for tackling a bunch of complex stuff in those missions as we planned them out." [source]

Sylvia: "I think we can all agree Emmrich might be a touch eccentric, but I really wanted his interests and compassionate outlook to be heartfelt, so this is lovely to hear." [source]

User: "I was so nervous about the whole Necropolis gang as I have PTSD and a major fear of death. So when Emmrich confided in Rook about his own fear, I was struck with such an unexpected comfort. I've never heard someone describe my own fears and how they make me feel so perfectly." // Sylvia: "Thank you, Bibi. It's a very familiar fear for me as well, and I find sometimes talking about it can ease things. So I'm very glad to hear Emmrich's thoughts on it were helpful for you." [source]

Sylvia: "I like a good sinister necromancer, but really wanted to try something different with the Mourn Watch, something more akin to a sacred duty." [source]

Sylvia on the Necropolis: "The concept, lighting, and level artists, and the level designer, did so much cool stuff there IMO. Seeing it with the final art and lighting in for the first time was a thrill for me too." [source]

User: "special thanks for the Terry Pratchett references in the form and speech of Vorgoth. I don't know exactly whose idea it was, but it was great!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you so much! Re: Terry Pratchett: oh man, I read nearly every Discworld book multiple times, absolute favorites growing up." [source]

User: "I kinda of assumed that Emmrich just calculates age in academia terms, so no matter how many physical years old your Rook is, you're just a tiny baby who hasn't completed a necromancy phd. "When I was your age" = "When I was a TA."" // Sylvia: "Yes, yes that math checks out." [source]

User on Emmrich: "how refreshing it was to have an argument with a LI that’s specific to their relationship. It gives the characters such texture and dimension!" // Sylvia: "Aw thank you! I liked the tone range we ended up having between everyone, it was more rewarding to do." [source]

User: "Would you guys ever expand more on Nevarra and its culture? I loved seeing the Necropolis, and hope we revisit it. But I'll be honest when I say it made me curious what life in Nevarra is like, and how infused Nevarra's Mortalitasi are with average Nevarran life." // Sylvia: "Since I've left the company, that's not really in my hands, so there's not much I can say. But I get what you mean, because the Mourn Watch are a subbranch of the Mortalitasi with a very special field of study and service. We don't really get much about everyday Nevarra. So whoever tackles that in the future, if they ever do: I think that could be neat. Lots of room to explore different dynamics and customs!" [source, two]

User: "I adore Emmrich, he's so sweet & so thoughtful! I especially adore his love for flowers, and I personally interpreted that as a hint from the writers (you!) that choosing to embrace his fleeting mortality, like the fleeting beauty of flowers, was his "good" path - is that correct? What's your take?" // Sylvia: "I tried really hard to make either choice feel like it could be the right one for him, because I wanted it to be more about a player's own interpretation-and their relationship with him-than author fiat hinting at which one is correct. Also thank you for the kind words! I really liked writing Emmrich enthusing about flowers." [source, two] // User: "He's such a charming character, the vibes of him and Josephine are among some of my favorites in the series, thank you for helping to shape them and for being kind enough to answer my question! Do you, personally, have a preference for which choice Emmrich makes? It's a tough call to make in game!" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, like a coward, I've not stated a preference because I don't want to accidentally influence people into thinking one was right or not. I'm also in a weird place where as the person writing him, my thoughts are far less subjective in weird recursive ways. If that makes sense." [source]

User: "do you have a favorite flower? It was such a lovely detail in Emmrich's character and it warms my heart to know writing that was enjoyable for you" // Sylvia: "It kind of changes depending on what's growing during the season, but while it's very common, you can't beat the scent of a rose. (Fond of lilacs too)" [source]

User: "Did you have any role in Manfred's wisp being lilac when/if you bring him back? That detail made me bawl 😭 Manfred was so shaped by "living" with Emmrich that his essence became Em's favorite color?! The only wisp we see to do so?" // Sylvia: "I wish! I actually don't know who did that. I'd assume that colour was chosen by one of our animators, or maybe the LD, so perhaps they added in that detail, which is adorable. (Carly, Derek Wilks, was this either of you?)" [source] // Derek Wilks: "I think that was someone in VFX actually!" [source]

Sylvia: "Glad you enjoyed the graveyard date, our animators and music director did wonders there." [source]

User: "Can you give us any hints on when Dorian spent some time at the necropolis? I need to know their circumstances for science (how old was Dorian back then? I could imagine he had a crush on the professor lol)" // Sylvia: "I'm going to chicken out and not pin that down (sorry.) Since I've left BW, my answer would be even more non-canonical than usual, because that would've been something I'd have wanted to talk over with the other writers. But by that same token, nothing I've said invalidates what you want to imagine." [source]

Sylvia on Emmrich: "I am flattered to hear he has become a favorite romance, the team went all out on him." [source] // Sylvia: "So many people worked on those scenes: animation, art, audio, the editors, and huge kudos to his actor Nick Borraine." [source]

Sylvia: "I THINK Emmrich is 6'2 or 6'3, but you'd need a character artist to confirm." [source]

User: "Do the necromancers of the Grand Necropolis have their own sort of culture? Like perhaps their own rituals for marriage, courting, etc.?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. Good question. I'm sure they have some individual quirks and traditions, like any long-running institution. But they probably don't deviate unrecognizably from the mortalitasi norm." [source]

Sylvia: ""i also played a trans rook, and some of emmrich's content for a romanced trans rook made for probably some of the best romance content of all time for me." That's so nice to hear, and I must give credit to some trans people who kindly took the time to give me feedback that made those lines better." [source]

User: "1) are Tevinter exchange students like Dorian common? 2) what are some of the other fraternities of the Mortalitasi? 3) do members of the Mourn Watch often attend social events with the Nevarran elite like other Mortalitasi?" // Sylvia: "1) Yeah, I think they're not uncommon. I took my inspiration from The Grand Tour, and thought it would make sense if Tevinter sent out some of the wealthier scions to see the world a little, pick up a few new spells. [link] 2) I'm afraid I've deliberately left this one blank, for future people to fill in if/when the need arises. Emmrich complains about the palace necromancers, so we do know there's a special cadre of mortalitasi running the show over there. 3. Absolutely. The MW are pretty prestigious in Nevarra with their running the Grand Necropolis. Much as Emmrich dislikes politics himself, there's probably a lot going on at the top." [source, two, three]

User: "Do you think Lich Emmrich would eventually be told by the Lich Lords to sever his mortal ties and return with them to the depths of the Necropolis? It seems like he’s willing to break all their rules to keep Rook with him" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid defining Emmrich's duties/responsibilities/required conduct as a lich would very much be something I'd leave up to the future (even if I were still at BW.) Kind of too big a topic for me to want to speculate here." [source]

User: "did you have a hand in designing how emmrich looks?" // Sylvia: "Yep, I gave feedback as his design progressed. Our concept artists really got him very early on, though, so it was smaller stuff." [source] // User: "was he at all inspired by Peter Cushing & his hammer film characters? He really gives off van Helsing vibes to me" // Sylvia: "Time permitting I want to do a post on influences, but you got it in one exactly. It was specifically the Hammer films I was thinking about!" [source] // User: "would Rudolph van Richten from Curse of Strahd be on his list of influences?" // Sylvia: "I'm afraid, to my shame, I never read much of the core Ravenloft books, so that one's a no." [source]

User: "I needed you to know that Emmerich's conversation in the Memorial Gardens about his thanaphobia really got me. I could never put the words together of what thanaphobia feels like, and his description is perfect." // Sylvia: "It's a familiar feeling to me as well, and I'm glad it rang true." [source]

User: "I've got a really severe death phobia that's been flaring recently, and emmrich's conversation about it captured the feeling perfectly and helped lessen the weight for me" // Sylvia: "I find at least discussing it can ease it, sometimes, so I'm very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich helped in that way." [source]

Sylvia: "Hezenkoss was a blast to write so I'm glad she clicked for you. "preposterous is what you wore to a bog, Orlesian" Oh wow, Skywatcher! It's been an age, so glad that line stuck with you. That takes me back!" [source]

Sylvia: ""And yet I ask the question - what attracts Emmerich to the Hand? Yes, the answer is “perseverance”, but I think this is not fully explored." Do you mean the Hand of Glory specifically? He's intrigued and disturbed by the magic around it, which is why he hones on it, even before he knows its origin" [source]

Sylvia: ""I was wondering if you could tell us about his & Manfred's first meeting or notable moments in their friendship?" This feels like something I'd probably want to leave more to the imagination. And because I'm not a BW anymore, answers would be even more non-canonical than normal. All that said, for some reason, I always pictured Emmrich being alone in the Necropolis the first time Manfred's wisp floated up to him to peer at what he was doing. It just seems a little more poignant that way." [source, two]

Sylvia: "All credit to the team, especially the writers and editors who gave feedback that made [Emmrich] so much better during those early days and beyond." [source]

User: "me + a handful of people were wondering about non-mage mourn watchers! id love to hear your notes/thoughts about them! b/c i didnt remember hearing how they become MW or if reaper uses death magic!" // Sylvia: "Sure! Not much to say, though, I think the MW is likely a mage majority fraternity that accepts a few non-mages who have exceptional skills and temperaments sympathetic to the Necropolis. A warrior of great renown, a rogue of exceptional stealth and quiet, a baby found down there in a grave, and so forth. They'd certainly undergo the same kind of oaths and bindings every Watcher goes through. I always pictured them being provided with the best enchanted gear the MW has to offer too." [source, two]

User: "Hi! About Emmerich being a professor—does he teach at a Circle, or is he specifically a professor to other MWers and Mortalitasi? It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all?" // Sylvia: ""It seems like the MW has some sort of official schooling for its members since he regularly takes on students each year, could you comment on that at all? " Sure, but I think you have it, the MW seems to want to raise well-rounded students with a classical education on top of magecraft. In my mind, it was because they saw every MW as representing the Grand Necropolis, so of course they wanted its members to have training in etiquette and history and generally be able to move in polite society." [source, two]

User: "If I remember correctly, we only really see Emmrich use necromantic magic in-game. Are there other types of magic (elemental, healing/spirit, etc) that you think he would gravitate toward?" // Sylvia: "Hrm. He does have a bit of healing magic, mechanically in combat. It coudl work, but somehow I don't think Emmrich would ever be a high-level healer. He could maybe get the basics but it's not his great gift. Something about the gravic magic of the force mage specialty feels appropriate though." [source]

Sylvia: ""would it be possible for a (romanced) MW Rook join Emmrich in linchdom, eventually?" Yes: Rook can try, bc it's not forbidden to seek the knowledge out. (Emmrich makes it clear Hezenkoss pieced some of it together herself, so we've also seen another mage get it almost-right) It is very hard and probably takes decades to accomplish (and of course, there's no guarantee Rook would survive.) But everything written in game points to there being a chance." [source, two]

User: "I’ve been thinking a little about it and I know it’s mentioned in the game he would be interested in visiting - but how would Emmrich feel about visiting the Avvar in the south? They are one of the few groups that show respect for spirits in a similar way and I imagine he’d have a lot of questions." // Sylvia: "He'd probably love it. He'd be fascinated by their relationship with spirits, in the ways it mirrors and deviates from the Mourn Watchers' own practices. (I imagine there is also like a 15% chance he gets into a heated argument with one of them over a fine point of how spirits work exactly.)" [source]

User: "congratulations on another achievement, Emmrich took the silver trophy" // Sylvia: "I was so excited to see we'd gotten the silver trophy! I hope everyone who worked on him sees that." [source]

User: "Is there anywhere we can follow your future work after this account gets shut down ?" // Sylvia: "TBH I'll probably just reopen it it there's any cool news to share since I don't have a website or anything. (I THINK I can just reactivate it?)" [source]

User: "Thank you for Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet, emmrich, Liara and Leigon!!!!" // Sylvia: "Thank you! (I should mention I was only a part of Legion in ME3 - specifically the N7 mission into the Geth Consensus. Great fun to work on that level though.)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm lucky to have had the chance to bring Emmrich and Josephine to you all with the rest of the team." [source]

Sylvia: ""I still remember when you introduced yourself on old BSN when Lair of the Shadow Broker came out." Wow, you're right I did! That is a blast from the past. Thank you for the kind words!" [source]

User: "Just wanted to say thank you for all the amazing characters you helped bring to life in DA and ME. I really enjoyed Emmrich and Hezenkoss in DAV. The dynamic between them really made me laugh" // Sylvia: "Thanks! That was one of my favorite pairs to write, the history between them meant everything was always a little more personal, which is always fun." [source]

Sylvia: "Thanks Janette, loved writing Hollix." [source]

User: "Elements of Emmerich's costume resemble the Cerberus logo from ME. Is this just a reference or is there something more to it?" // Sylvia: "Gee, I can't say for sure because I didn't make it, but I'd assume that one's just a coincidence (since the Mourn Watch and Necropolis use hexagonal shapes as their primary shape language)" [source]

User: "I can just tell how well Emmrich is written along his fear. I lost my fear of death and dying as I began to honor the dead." // Sylvia: "I do think talking and thinking about these things more than we normally do helps eases the fear." [source]

Sylvia: "Thank you for these lovely thoughts. I did read some books about different customs around death, and I know a little about pagan/occult/magic practices (in a very basic and generalist sense.) So it doesn't surprise me per se, but I am very glad to hear getting to know Emmrich was a positive thing. And I'm also very glad to hear he's someone you feel you can take into the future with you as a helpful friend." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""Does Emmrich have any guilty pleasures?" Huh. Excellent question. I should really be more decisive about my own character, but while I think that could be fun, I'm not sure what it would be. "Oh one other question , is there a part of thedas you wish you could of explored but wasn't able to be in game?" I've always been interested in the sinister sounding Sea of Ash. What goes on over there???" [source, two]

User: "i have a silly little question bc i also love emmrich. was his scene revealing lichdom to everyone meant to parallel a trans coming out or was that accidental? because i felt on an existential level the thrill of revealing who you are, but also fearing people would be afraid or treat you differently. (and then there's strife discussions, and putting up a glamour some places but not others, and the blooming but gentle self-confidence... he is very transgender to me)" // Sylvia: "Not a silly question at all! After writing the scene I wondered if people would see similarities because of those overlapping themes you pointed out: the dignity of bodily self-determination, revealing your true self to those you love, fear of rejection, hope for acceptance. But during the writing, I mostly approached becoming undead as its own thing, because I wanted to ground it in the MW's particular philosophy. I think there's parallels because of the way the human personal is universal, if that makes sense. That said, if this does feel very transgender to you or anyone else (or not), I'm not against varied interpretations. That's one of the cool things about seeing people actually get their hands on your work." [source, two, three]

User: "I'm not sure what Emmrich's hairstyle is, slickback?" // Sylvia: "Good question. Afraid I don't know what it'd be called either. Googling it, slickback LOOKS correct?" [source]

User: "Emmrich has definitely developed a special bond with Bellara and Lucanis, and yet, both of them don't comment on his relationship with Rook! What would you say their reaction was? Their banter was so good I'm sure we'd all love to know what Emmrich had to say!" // Sylvia: "Ah, that one I'm afraid I can't answer since I'm not their writer, and that would've been something I would've discussed with the narrative team together. Sorry!" [source]

Sylvia: "Nick was indeed brilliant!" [source]

User: "Ive got quite bad thanatophobia and Emmerich's writing is one of the only times I've seen that dealt with actually respectfully." // Sylvia: "Thanks very much! I've experienced that fear, and I suspect it's way more common than we think, and I'm glad to hear it felt that way to you." [source]

User: "My HOF was a spirit healer, very kind & very curious, & for years I've considered how that special connection to spirits might lend itself to an interest in Thedan necromancy & puzzling out where spirits & souls begin & end. Emmrich, Manfred/Curiosity and the wisps gave me so much to think about!" // Sylvia: "that's interesting about your HOF. They may've found some kindred spirits if they ever ventured further north." [source]

User: [was] "Dorian was taken over by a nominated writer for veilguard or if his legacy was more of a team effort ?" // Sylvia: "Dorian was in the capable hands of Writer Chee" [source]

User: "I’m also dying to know what Emmrich did during Rook's stint in the prison-my thought is he not only did the majority of the work on finding Rook, but in leading the team, prob finishing touches on the dagger clone, keeping the team together in Rook’s absence while barely holding himself together at times" // Sylvia: "I think he was indeed having some very sleepless, guilt-wracked nights, working himself too hard, and trying his best on that dagger." [source]

User: "I just wanted to tell you that I love Emmrich's part of the lighthouse the books the fact that it's right next to rook's room and that johanna is in it later and that you can talk to her" // Sylvia: "Thank you! I love what the level artist there did, it's such a cozy den of a place. And I'm glad you liked meeting Hezenkoss afterwards, all praise to the level and tech designers who got her in there." [source]

User: "Are the Watchers overall vegetarian, or was it a personal preference Emmrich developed?" // Sylvia: "I think it's a thing among some Watchers, but not all. Because they think a lot about life and death and the cycle of life, and their place in it, and what constitutes a death they feel comfortable with or not. My actual, original inspiration for it was from an old Call of Cthulhu TRPG book about Miskatonic University, set in the 1920s. There was a great little detail about the campus having a cafeteria that serves vegetarians. And when I read it, I got a little jolt because I was so used to vegetarianism in North America being portrayed as a relatively modern movement. But of COURSE there's always exceptions and cultural enclaves and so on. Just one of those moments you feel your understanding of what we were up to in the past shift a little, even if it felt obvious in retrospect." [source, two, three, four]

Sylvia re: writing Manfred: "Yep, Manfred was my guy too." [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad you enjoyed meeting our gentleman necromancer. (Full credit to the great feedback I got from the other writers and editors early on, he wouldn't be as good without them.)" [source]

User: "I was curious I know none of emmrich's serious relationships ended up panning out But like did any of them get to the point that him and his partner at the time shared a living space I'm wondering if emmrich has ever lived with anyone besides manfred" // Sylvia: "That's an interesting question. Like a coward I will hedge my bets, but I could MAYBE see a few. Not many though." [source]

[dseval]

ArchiveVerse Cross

(sorry if the quality is butchered everyone Ibis paint is uncooperative today)

Finally, i'm able to work on ArchV content, with my favourite character, Cross. More under the cut.

Cross is the first one to get a 'reference sheet' or a character intro, since he's the first one to kickstart this AU too. Expect more ArchiveVerse charcaters to receive the treatment in the future.

(though for now Delta is next, because i absolutely hate his current archv design, and i'm redoing it. If you had anyone you're interested in seeing next, please tell me.)

I actually don't know how to format this post, though, so sorry if the information is all over the place (or if it's too much information). To understand most of the things I write here, please refer to my ArchiveVerse post.

★Info★

Cross, a student from the Omega Public School (OPS), used to be a normal student. That is, until he got caught in trouble along with Ink and a student from Juvie, Error. Ink was let off scot free, but Cross wasn't so lucky. Due to the troubles he caused, he was quickly arrested and thrown to the Juvenile Containment. Much to his own displeasure.

There, as much as he distances himself, he made friends with the other students contained there (Dust, Killer, Horror, and Nightmare). Though, it doesn't deter him from grinding hard for credits and speedrunning his community service to be released fast and quick from Juvie. He succeeded.

After graduating from the Juvenile Containment, Cross returned to OPS, and swore to just become a normal student, avoiding having himself thrown into Juvie again. He tries his best to steer clear from trouble, though the other Juvie students seem to bring that trouble to him, often dragging him along to their mischief.

Quick facts:

His height is 180 cm (probably he's the third tallest character in archv)

Cross's powers are Lightning, and on the side, he has small matter manipulation powers, able to break down molecules, though he hasn't explored his capabilities with this yet.

His powers are volatile, and he still had difficulties controlling it. Occasionally he'd accidentally zap someone when he touched them. Purple sparks of lightning also fizzle out of his fingertips when he's flustered or nervous.

He wears at least three layers of clothing.

Cross has been described as handsome, with long legs.

He rides his bicycle everywhere, often going for rides in the weekend too.

Cross always brings his school bag whereever he goes, in it are chocolate energy bars, and other utilities.

His eyelights are starry whenever he's overjoyed (this is his swap sans trait guys)

Every student in OPS has their own house, Cross makes sure to keep his living space tidy and neat.

Character relationships:

(These are only the ones i can mention off the top of my head)

Cross and Dream hangs out sometimes. To drink latter or get breakfast. Cross really admires him.

He often hangs out at the arcade with Delta, Epic, and Color. Delta seems somewhat hellbent on beating him at anything, Cross felt like he can't lose. Epic and Color plays a cooking game.

Dust, who was banned from entering most merch stores and malls, often sent Cross for fetch quests to get him any new Ice-e merch. Cross finds this annoying but obliges.

Killer and him often zap each other back in juvie, he still have black spots and bruises in several parts of his body. Nowadays, they still zap each other sometimes, Killer mostly for teasing— and Cross, on accident.

Horror and him often went to all-you-can-eat events together, they also exercise together occasionally.

Even out of Juvie, Cross still calls Nightmare by 'boss'. Nightmare finds it embarrassing of him.

Cross rarely met Ink, still somewhat wary that Ink will drag him into some sort of trouble. Though, he doesn't hate him.

Credits (please tell me if I missed anyone!):

Cross Sans by Jakei

Artstyle inspired/taken directly from Mx2j, one of the artists for Blue Archive. The character intro format itself follows Blue Archive.

Mentioned characters: Dream & Nightmare Sans (Joku), Dust Sans (Ask-Dusttale blog), Killer Sans (Rahafwabas), Horror Sans (SourAppleStudios), Ink Sans (Comyet/Mye bi), Error Sans (CrayonQueen/LoverofPiggies), Epic (yugogeer012), Delta (AnimatedZorox), Color (superyomna)

[salt-clangen]

Been looking back on some moons to relearn some characters, and I'd love to know more about Lynxdawn's litter! I always feel like I forgot who's who's, especially on their designs. Luckily they've been appearing more in the recent moons but I still get confused from time to time.

Anything about their specific traits, relationships with everyone/cats their particularly close with, what their current role in the clan their the most interested in, etc.!!

Ypu obviously don't have to answer all, I'm just curious to know more about the little babies of the clan ^^

Yeah I can absolutely go over their profiles, I don’t think I ever posted their reff pics before.

So from left to right it’s youngest to oldest:

Sandkit, Coralkit, Kelpkit, Dropletkit.

Let’s start with Sandkit, she’s a very excitable kit and has adapted well to clan life. Despite being in the same litter, she’s definitely the runt, much small than her siblings even now that they’re eating cooked meals several times a day. She eats so much Lynx was worried she had a parasite, anytime a loner or kittypet joins (basically anyone who was out of clan territory and eating raw prey) they get dewormed and cleaned for fleas to help avoid a clan wide infestation. So the kits had already been wormed and bathed (most hated it lol), but Sand got two more doses of dewormer (a powder made of fennel seeds) bc of her appetite and slow growth. But turns out she just loves to eat and is a short lil lady. Sand plans to be a warrior and greatly admires Wolfstar and Snowspeckle. She’s impulsive and noisy, but well meaning, she can get ahead of herself a lot. She enjoys moss ball hunting and most physical games. She has a hard time focusing without some sort of visual stimulation.

Coralkit is a bit of a busy body, she loves watching others work and gives her opinions freely. She comes off as bossy, and she is, but she’s very in tune with other’s emotions. She is very observant and knows most of the adult’s patterns so she can tell when something is off. Some cats think she’s nosey, but she’s very sweet about wanting to help. She’s not sure what role she wants to apprentice in, she thinks she’d like to be a warrior or perhaps a camp keeper. She’s noisy, bossy, and can’t sit still for anything.

Kelpkit is very polite and quiet, but bring her some gossip or even just an update on one of the other clans and she is living. She’d love to meet Rosedrift and just listen to that cat yap. It’s not even mean spirited, most of the time, she’s a gatherer of information. She spends most of her days following her more extroverted sisters around, playing games with them, or spending quiet time with Droplet. She likes to ‘play artisan’ which means making a mess with the one muddy spot in the camp, she makes mud pies and grassy wreathes that she decorates with pebbles and feathers. She’s gotten into trouble for sneaking supplies from Snowspeckle’s craft corner. No one was surprised when she declared that she’d be an artisan.

Dropletkit is a funny girl, she’s got her mom’s flighty behavior, loner life would suit her. But she’s also a sentimental girl, she wants to stay close with her sisters and mom, she wants to love clan life. It’s hard for her though, she’s just a nervous kit, it’s ingrained in her bones. She spends most of her time watching, she’s observant like Coral, but where her sister is doing it subconsciously to be aware of other’s struggles…Droplet is doing it to predict if a cat is gonna hurt her. She’s mildly paranoid, but has some self awareness, she knows to an extent that the clan is full of kind cats who won’t hurt her or her sisters. But there’re times she gets panic attacks bc a warrior picked her up or Wolfstar spoke too loudly. It takes a long time for her to trust others but Lynxdawn has earned it. She doesn’t know what she wants to apprentice as…part of her wonders if she’d even make it as an apprentice.

And for funsies, here’s a ref for their parents! Their mom Sadie and dad O’Malley.

Sadie is very lean, which Droplet and Sand take after, while O’Malley is a plump fluffy kittypet, Coral takes after his body type. Kelp is a bit of a mix between the two, though her coat was more like Sadie. Sand is light tan like her sire, but her sisters are a bit more dark/greyish. Coral’s coat pattern and color are from her paternal grandmother while Droplet’s brown is from her maternal grandparents.

Sadie was a loner at heart, she liked being alone for the most part, though she’d stay with a one or a small group of cats occasionally. But she was always roaming and didn’t really have a plan for her life beyond traveling. She was a decent hunter but when she got pregnant and to a certain point she couldn’t hunt anymore and not to mention it was leaf bare. After birth her paranoia went through the roof, she didn’t trust anyone and refused to bring her kits to a twoleg or kittypet for fear they’d be taken away. She died of starvation after arriving at the abandoned nest, she likely didn’t even realize she was on clan territory in her weakened state.

By contrast O’Malley had an easy life, he’s likely still alive, but it’s anyone’s guess where he lives. Sadie would only vaguely remember spending sometime with him for maybe a moon or two before the itch to disappear got to her. O’Malley doesn’t know about his daughters or Sadie’s demise, though he does remember her fondly. They had fun together however brief, he would’ve liked her to stay with him but she was too flighty and left when he proposed the idea. His kits inherited his fluffy coat and agreeableness (aside from Droplet lol)

[kix-mm]

genuinely want to see a full animated series of the poly comic! Their dynamic is just SO cuter!

ANIMATING A SERIES, LETS TALK ABOUT IT.

1. The idea

Well, as wonderful as that would be, it would take me a very long time to make something like this. Animation involves a lot of time and a lot of wrist work, planning, storyboarding, and much much more.

2. The reality

I'd likely have to work full time on it. If we wanted to achieve 1 episode per week at most (and that's if I'm unrealistic)

Why would I only do 1 a week?: Because 1 episode in a week would already be asking a lot for a 1-man team. Once more, animation IS HARD.

which means I'd need donations so I could still have an income for food, rent, and possibly to buy the program and equipment necessary to animate. Not to mention other expenses that might come up in the future.

3. How would I do it?

It would probably be small episodes since those yield faster results and be more doable.

Furthermore, I'd need a plot and deadline for every episode! (The plot would be the fun part)

I don't know how I'd receive payments though, I've always been very nervous about asking for money even though I have a PayPal & Payton set up (I've never used them)

4. Where would I post it?

I know I'd probably post it on YouTube so it's more accessible to everyone! I'd hate for someone to be left out because of a pay wall, so that's my best option so far.

5. The animation?

I'd have to take some time to figure out how I'd best animate the characters and backgrounds.

I'm very unfamiliar with 3D, I only ever briefly dipped myself in that end of the pool. HOWEVER.

I'm quite familiar with 2D. the only issue is that I absolutely suck at it ever since leaving animation.

I'd have to do a lot of practice before revealing a semi-decent result.

6. The characters

A, B and C all look EXTREMELY similar to one another, to the point I can only tell them apart because A has a mole on their cheek, B is the tallest and C is the smallest. It's very confusing and definitely not an ideal character design.

I do think I'd be able to play around with the style while keeping them minimalistic, though maybe add hair (Are they bald??) To distinguish them apart more easily.